


Horizons: Homecoming

by XmagicalX (Xparrot)



Series: Horizons [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Action/Adventure, Future Fic, Gen, Juvenilia, POV Outsider, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-11-01
Updated: 1997-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xparrot/pseuds/XmagicalX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>(Sequel to "Future Horizons.")</i> After five years, Dana Scully has been returned, but everything's far from over.  Not only must she deal with changes in Mulder and the expansion of the X-files division, but there are some that would have preferred that she'd never come back...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horizons: Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I'm not going to say I hope it was worth the wait, because after so long this would need to be _War and Peace_ to be truly worth it. =) But at long last, this is it: the sequel to "Future Horizons." I hope you enjoy it at least as much as the first, if not more--this one has Scully! One final note--I adore reader response, so if you would like to make a poor little fanfic writer's day, drop her a line to tell her you read this and/or you liked it! And even if you don't, thanx for reading all the same! : )
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, etc...belong to Chris Carter and 10- 13, I've borrowed them for non-profit activities. But this story, and the X-files _team_ belong solely to ME, and if you use them w/out acknowledging that I'll get cranky, I'm a very possessive creator...thanx :) (c) 1997

Fox Mulder was fidgeting.

Well, no, fidgeting wasn't quite the word. Shifting slightly in his chair. Leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands; a few minutes later leaning back in a semblance of relaxation. Changing position.

Six agents watched him from the other side of the waiting room.

"He doesn't fidget, either," Gibbons whispered, just loudly enough that the other five could hear her. Quietly enough that the director couldn't.

The door from the main part of the hospital opened, and a doctor entered. He was smiling broadly.

Immediately all seven members of the FBI were on their feet. Director Mulder was closest to the doctor. "So what's the news with them?" he asked.

The other agents watched this exchange with wide eyes. Mulder was smiling. Not broadly, but clearly, matching the doctor in feeling if not in diameter.

The doctor announced, "They're all fine, all sixty of them. Physically at least." For a brief moment a frown darkened his face. "Mentally...some seem disturbed, I've heard. The ones I examined personally were rather quiet, but they shouldn't need serious therapy, I don't think."

"What about the X-rays?" Mulder inquired urgently.

"All negative." The doctor shook his head, "no signs of metal anywhere in any of them. Lots of fillings, but cursory examinations indicate those are from regular dentists. And none of the other details you asked us to check for were present, either."

The doctor probably didn't notice but the others saw the expression shift across their director's face. It vanished before they could identify it, though... "May I see the ones from--?"

Without asking the doctor handed him a folder. "Thought you'd want these." While Mulder scrutinized the plates in the light, the doctor looked the agents over slowly. "Now that my work is basically done, can you tell me why it was so urgent? Where did all these people come from? Why was there a police officer accompanying each and every one of them?"

Pender stepped forward. "We're sorry, doctor. We can't answer your questions immediately. Perhaps in a few weeks--"

"A few weeks?" gaped the doctor. "What is this about--"

Mulder cut him off. "Doctor, this is about matters of national security. I'm sorry, you will eventually know, I assure you. Now I need to see one of your former patients, if you are in fact finished with them."

"I'm done. They're right through there, just show your badge," the doctor told him, gesturing at the door.

Mulder pushed past him, out to the hall.

The doctor examined the other six agents. "I don't suppose any of you will talk."

As one, they shook their heads. Pender spoke. "We need to speak with them as well--"

Sighing, the doctor pointed. "Follow him, show your badges, those should get you past all those officers."

They all moved out of the waiting room. In the hall they congregated momentarily. "Okay, you know what to ask," Pender said.

His partner Guss listed, "How much do you remember, how long do you think you were gone, how old are you, what your name is--"

"Yeah, we got it," Dubzinski murmured.

"Thought you did," Pender replied. "Just keep in mind that these people have been back only twenty-four hours; don't push them. Ask nicely and if they say they don't know ask something unrelated."

They all nodded, then split up to go to the various rooms. Guss caught Pender before they left. "We leave the interviews in Room 53 to the director, right?"

Pender nodded. "I think he's gotten it covered. He should have, what with the amount of time he's been spending in there."

"You're going to have to spill the story soon, Pender."

"And you're still convinced I know it."

"All of us are. As soon as these people are taken care of we're going to spring a thousand questions on you. Mind if I get a head start?"

"Go ahead," Pender told his partner.

"What was the box you gave the director? Right when you came in this evening? Was it why you were late?"

"It was why I was late. It was something he asked me to pick up."

"A rather strange something," Guss commented. "I can tell by the way you trail off."

"Bet you can also tell that I'm not saying any more than that. We got some people to talk to, Guss. Get to work now, interviewing me can wait."

"Yeah," Guss muttered. "Until the rest of us gather the interrogation equipment and start another Inquisition. You're not getting away this time, Pender." He didn't care that Pender was out of hearing range by now. His partner knew it already.

His partner knew a great deal too much, Guss thought. Almost as much as Mulder himself did. Not about the abductees and their incredible return; he suspected Pender had already told everything he knew when they were on the search for Mulder.

But about one of the abductees, now...that woman. A short, pale- skinned, red-haired woman. One of the abductees. A doctor, she had said. Who had guessed that he, Guss, was FBI the moment she saw the director's face.

One didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce the fact that she knew Mulder. And he knew her. Knew her so well that he cried in her arms even as she did and that afterward he smiled.

And Director Mulder _never_ smiled.

Pender knew who she was, Guss and the others were positive of that. Guss himself could only guess, and he was unsure enough of his theory that he hadn't said anything about it yet. He was wondering, however, if he could talk to the woman. Or find out something about her. Such as if she had been a pathologist in the FBI...

And then there were all the little attendant mysteries gathered around her enigma. Like Pender's box. Guss had been the only one who had seen him hand it to Mulder. A tiny little white box, like a jewelry box. Why in hell would the director request jewelry from Pender?

But his partner had been right. All his questions would have to wait until after this whole matter with the abductees was cleared up.

Guss allowed himself a tiny sigh before getting down to official business. This whole matter, he suspected, was going to take a _very_ long time to clear up.

In Room 53, the door opened. Five former abductees, sitting up in their hospital beds and talking quietly, went silent, wide eyes focused on whoever was there.

They relaxed when the man entered; he had been in enough that they had grown accustomed to him already. And one of them smiled.

His tiny return smile was for her. "Hey."

"Hey. I take it the X-rays came out clear?"

"Yes. Nothing unusual. How'd you--"

"You look relieved." Happy was stretching it a little. His smile was sincere enough, the same little smile he had had for the last twenty-four hours. Too tight to be called happy, but a smile. Now it was more relaxed, a layer of tension peeled away.

She contemplated him silently. He studied her, too. A long searching look, eyes darting all over her. Absorbing every detail, almost savoring it.

She hadn't changed that much, she knew. Looking at her now he saw almost the same woman who had been his partner five years ago. Paler, of course; there hadn't been sunlight on the ship. And a little thinner, they had been fed enough but sometimes she simply couldn't eat. They all had gone through that; they all had supported each other through it, made sure that everyone stayed healthy.

It had paid off, they all were back now, they all were safe and they all had survived. And they hadn't really altered much. It had only been a year, after all, from their perspective.

But for the rest of the universe...

They had been told, of course. Warned that time passed differently, that they had lost some on the ship. They didn't know how much, they weren't told. She hadn't really thought of it precisely, until they were standing on Earth again. And she knelt down to help an injured man and saw his face.

She had known in the back of her mind who it was, but she hadn't paid attention, and then it came as such a shock, his face, his hair. Grey streaks in the moonlight. One doesn't get that much grey in one year, but five?

The hair had been obvious, but looking at him now, it was such a minor detail. It gave him a distinguished appearance; how did he look now in glasses? But there was more than that. Lines in the face that hadn't been there before. And the whole expression...the tentativeness of the smile, as if it was a long- unused thing.

Time, five years of it, could carve lines. But it wasn't time that had put his smile out of practice. She knew what it was, and was hard-pressed to convince herself that it wasn't her fault, she should not feel guilty--

He broke her out of her revery. Or perhaps was breaking out of his own. "I've...I've got something for you." He fumbled in his pocket.

"Don't tell me, a football video," she said, summoning her own smile to counteract the mock-horror of her tone.

He stared at her, and for a brief moment she was sure he had no idea what she was talking of. No memory of that other reunion, that paler echo of this one. Three months was not five years--

Then his smile brightened for an instant. "Oh. No, I...forgot to get one, sorry." Instead he took out a little box, opened it. Handed what lay inside to her.

She stared at it, nestled in her palm, a tiny golden cross on a delicate chain. "I, I lost it on the ship, where--" She looked at him, trying and almost succeeding to keep her eyes from filling with tears.

"Last night, I noticed you didn't have it anymore," he murmured. Last night. They were running for their lives, all of them jammed into police cruisers racing for a hospital that only possibly was safe, and he had noticed her cross was gone. "Oh, Mulder."

"It's just a replacement," he told her, "I know it's not exactly like the one before."

"It's fine, it's perfect," she assured him.

He was shaking his head slightly. "I didn't even get it myself, I didn't have a chance." Small wonder; the only time she knew that he had left her side was a little while ago, when the doctors forcibly ejected him. They insisted that if he stayed around then he was going to have to undergo the X-rays as well, because anyone without an MD was going to receive them. Of course that should have excused her but she knew it was necessary-- "I would have picked out a closer one," he was saying, "but I didn't have the time so I asked one of my agents to..."

"One of your agents." The changes in him went further than skin- deep. "You're a director now, right?"

He nodded. "Of the X-files division. Scully--" A split-second pause, as if tasting the name. He must have liked the way it sounded. "Scully, we've got a real office now, we're out of the basement."

We. Not only him and her. Other agents, in the X-files. "How many are you?"

"I have six agents working under me now," he told her. "Three pairs of partners."

She didn't even realize she had been tense until she relaxed. Three pairs of partners. He didn't have a partner, he didn't have someone replacing her. Her place, that undefinable position that went beyond their work and yet was their work, her partnership was still secure.

But secured for her? Five years, she reminded herself. Long time for an unexcused vacation. "Mulder..." she asked tentatively. "What's going to happen to us? Where do we go when we leave here?"

In her peripheral vision she saw the other four abductees listen up. They had politely been trying to ignore the pair, but this query belonged to all of them.

Mulder's answer came too quickly. "You'll be fine. You'll go back to your lives."

"Are our lives still there?" Scully asked for all of them.

For the first time he couldn't meet her eyes. "I hope they are." He glanced around at the others. "We'll make sure you all are safe." She knew that tone, that utter confident one. He would not be denied. They would be safe. If they weren't, then all the blame would rest on his shoulders.

He looked back at her. Shyly, almost. In an undertone he said, "Your life is still around. You can return. Scully, I've called your mother, she should be here tomorrow."

"My mother..." More guilt there. What must it have been like for, believing that her remaining daughter was dead. After five years she certainly would have given up, anyone would have.

Almost anyone. Her eyes were still on Mulder. Would he have? She didn't think he had. And that must have been even worse for him.

That worried expression he regarded her with now. As if he feared that something would come and snatch her away again. And the way he had hugged her, when he first saw her, holding on as if to a lifeline. The same way she felt, really.

Impulsively she reached out, squeezed his hand. At her touch he jerked and then his grip tightened around her fingers. He focused on her face. "Scully?"

"Yes?"

"There's something I haven't told you yet. About--about the x- rays."

Immediately she was at attention. "What?"

He shook his head. "It's not bad, it's good, it's..."

She knew then what he was going to say. But she allowed him to announce it. "The tumor. That tumor, the cancer, it's gone. There's no sign of it in the x-rays." His hold was so strong it was painful but she didn't mind. "It was cured somehow, wasn't it?"

"Yes." She gave him a tiny smile. "I--I was hoping you could tell me that. They mentioned--only once, they said they had fixed matters."

"They did this?" With his other hand he gestured slightly at the ceiling, at the stars outside. "They cured you?"

She nodded. "I believe so."

"But why?"

"I don't know." It was so hard to explain, to describe how one couldn't ask questions, only listen closely to what one was told. To make someone who hadn't been there understand, she couldn't speak to them, she only understood what they wanted her to. And she had never known whether or not to believe them. "Mulder, we were all--all of us had been abducted before. We had all disappeared, with no or almost no memories, for weeks, months."

"I know." He was nodding. Of course he'd known. Five years he had had to research, investigate. He probably knew more about the other abductees than she did.

But did he know this? "I wasn't the only one. That was sick, I mean. That was dying..."

He shook his head very slightly, negating the words. They weren't true, they had never been true for him.

"I would have, Mulder. The tumor would have killed me." She looked away from his expression. "But they somehow removed it. As they removed other tumors from other abductees. Or...other things." She turned to face another bed, the woman there. "Michelle?"

The woman ducked her head.

"Tell him how they helped you. Please?"

Michelle spoke in a whisper, eyes downcast. "They...I had arthritis, that's what the doctors said. It started only a little after the first time...I was taken. And it got worse, I had trouble walking, I couldn't write, they didn't know what was wrong. No one did. It couldn't be stopped...and then when I was taken again, they made it better. As good as new..."

"They healed you? Would you have died, do you think, if they hadn't?" Mulder demanded, quietly but insistent.

Michelle only shook her head, wordless.

Scully patted his hand, drew his attention off the other woman. A little cock of the head and he understood instantly. Don't push it.

God, she had missed that, the silent communication they had. A warm feeling spread through her, to know it was still there.

Mulder of course was still wrestling with the mystery. "So she was healed, and you. And I take it you aren't the only ones."

"No," Scully verified. "Many of us were treated in some fashion. And the others...they could have been sick without knowing it." She looked at him. "They helped us. They took us against our will, for so long--" and now she tightened her own fingers around his, "--but they helped us all the same. And we don't even know why."

"Will they take you again?" Mulder's voice was so quiet she had to strain to understand.

"I don't know," was all she could tell him.

He absorbed her answer stoically; if she didn't know him so well she wouldn't have seen the emotions warring on his face. Rather than addressing them he said, "It's getting late, do you want to sleep?"

Scully made a face. "Seems like all I'm doing now is sleeping."

"Are you--are you bored? Want me to get you a book or something?" He looked around at the others, too. "Do you want a television or a radio?"

"Maybe a television..." whispered one of the other abductees. Janet. And Michelle added, "A newspaper," in her breathless voice.

They were all so quiet, Scully thought. On the ship she had been one of the loudest, the least timid. Now that they were back she realized how quiet she truly was--and how much softer they all were. How long would it be before they all spoke above a whisper? Or shouted again?

Mulder appeared as if he would leap up and carry out their bidding this instant. "Wait," she stopped him. "You can bring us things tomorrow. If you want. It is late now, we should sleep." Yes, hide one more night from the world, the changes out there. Scully wasn't sure she even wanted to see a newspaper, with that new date on it. Five years gone.

Mulder nodded agreement. "You sleep, too," she told him. He most definitely needed it. Not all of the lines on his face were permanent ones; some would vanish if he got rest.

And some things apparently never would change, a fact for which she was both glad and frustrated. "I'm not tired," he said with a shrug, settling down in his chair, obviously about to keep vigil tonight as well.

She should have protested but she didn't have the energy, despite that she had been lying in bed all day. And it was comforting, knowing he was there. With a quiet "Good-night, then," she rolled on her side and closed her eyes.

She didn't fall asleep for some time. Instead she listened to the quiet sounds around her. Soft breathing inside the room. The occasional steps of someone passing in the hall, where an officer was keeping guard. The muted noises of night traffic outside the window.

So different from the ship, and so comforting. Such ordinary things could make her happy now. Content, feeling almost safe at last, she dozed off.

Some indeterminate time later she jerked awake. A quick survey of the room showed her why: someone was standing at the door, having just entered.

She glanced next to the bed and her heart jumped when she saw Mulder wasn't there.

The figure by the door was not him. The light was dim but her eyes were adjusted and she could see the man clearly. Tall, black hair, light eyes. He appeared about Mulder's age--no, younger. Mulder's age five years ago, later thirties. Her age now, she supposed, though she didn't feel older and physically she wasn't.

He was dressed in a suit. Not a doctor or an orderly's gown, and not a police officer's uniform, either. How did he get in here? Why hadn't the guard outside given some sort of alarm?

Where was he? Where was Mulder?

"Who are you?" she asked in the most commanding tone she could muster. Not as strong as it once had been but it would have to do.

The man met her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he said in response.

"Why are you in here?" He didn't sound threatening, at least. She didn't relax, though.

"Well, if you're awake, do you mind a few questions, ma'am? I'm with the FBI." And he flipped out his badge.

She calmed some. The badge at least explained how he had entered. The question now became, was he legitimate? "What do you want to know?"

"We've been interviewing the abductees. We haven't spoken to anyone in here yet, because we expected Director Mulder to. But he hasn't given us your replies yet so I'm here to find them myself."

"Where is Mulder?" For the moment she ignored the unnatural "director."

"Right out in the hall. I made him lie down and take a short nap. Hope you don't mind."

"No." She assimilated this in silence for a moment. Put together what little she knew of him and made a leap of intuition. "Are you an X-files agent?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," affirmed the agent.

"And Mulder is your director," she continued.

"Now he is." At her expression he elaborated. "He was my partner, some time ago."

Her reaction to this, small as it was, obviously didn't pass unnoticed. "You were his partner before me. Dana Scully, right?"

She nodded.

"Glad to meet you, Agent Scully," the man said. "I'm Agent Lee Pender. We never met at the Bureau, though I did see you around occasionally." He extended his hand.

She took it, shook it uneasily. Pender's expression was hard to read, and she had yet to hear proof of his story. "So what are you asking us abductees?"

Pender shrugged. "Standard questions. Your name I already have. I need your age, your birthdate and place, social security number--standard identification."

"My legal, chronological age or my physical age?"

"Ah." Pender regarded her thoughtfully. "That is sort of a tricky issue. How about both?"

She told him what he asked. "Actually," he remarked, "that social security number's been re-assigned. Just so you know."

"It has?" Would he lie? He hadn't checked it in any computer, but he sounded absolutely positive.

"Yes." Pender verified. "It belongs to a four-year-old boy in Wyoming now." But he didn't explain how he had come by this data.

Rather than ask when she figured she wouldn't get an answer, she said, "Are you interested in my experiences on the ship?"

"We'll get to those," Pender assured her. "Now, I'd just like to check a few items. What was your career before the abduction?"

Scully frowned. "You know that already, I'm sure. Pathologist for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, special agent assigned to the X-files." She added her identification number for good measure.

"Uh-huh," Pender nodded. "You worked with Fox Mulder."

"I was his partner for almost five years."

"I assume that after that amount of time you knew each other fairly well?" Scully nodded slowly, unsure of where this was leading. "Did he ever mention to you why he was so interested in the X-files?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What does this have to do with me exactly, Agent Pender?"

"Did he ever tell you? Do you know?" Pender as good as said, 'I'm the one asking the questions here.'

"I do know, but I fail to see why I should tell you." Even if Pender was in fact a legitimate X-files agent, he had no right to take information given to her in confidence. If he hadn't been told yet she certainly wouldn't break Mulder's trust...

His next words surprised her, thinking as she was along those lines. "Does the name Samantha mean anything to you?"

Realizing that somewhere she had misinterpreted what was going on, she demanded the first thing that came into her mind--"Are you interrogating all the abductees in this manner?"

"No."

His flat answer was nearly a shock. It was the most definite reply she had received from Pender yet. Studying him, she saw that he had picked up traits from his former partner and current director. His face was as unreadable as Mulder's in his most closed mood. "So why am I singled out?" she asked cautiously.

"No one else appears to be Dana Scully," Pender explained.

"I don't just appear to be--I am Dana Scully," she assured him.

"Mulder's convinced of that, at least."

"Believe him, he's got good instincts. Believe me. Why would I lie?"

Pender's non-expression was almost pensive. "An imposter would have certain uses. They would be considered an FBI agent--in particular an X-files agent."

"And that would be dangerous?" She could understand that. A double agent in the X-files. Krycek came to mind, imagine what he could have done if he had actually been accepted as a full agent on the X-files...

Pender was nodding agreement. "We're a well-known division, we're very difficult to attack. But we, Mulder especially, have enemies..." He trailed off, eying her, then resumed, "And a false Dana Scully would be in a position to do irreparable damage."

Somehow, by the way he looked at her, she understood then that he was referring to more than just the X-files. Most of the hostility she felt for this inquisitive agent who had so nearly taken her place bled away. "How long were you his partner?" she asked.

Pender didn't seem to mind the change in questioner. He actually came close to smiling at her. "Only a year, and half that was with another agent as well. But because of that I'm senior agent on the X-files."

"Second in command."

"Something like that. Though," and he was eyeing her again, "you'd have a high rank too, I suppose."

"Are you all ranked?" She couldn't help but admit that she was curious about the functioning of entire division. How did Mulder handle being the director of six agents?

She also wondered about those other agents. If Pender was a typical example, they must be rather interesting people to work with...

Pender was answering her and she paid attention. "No. The only acknowledged superior is the director. But I handle some of the organization when Mulder is busy."

He took a step closer to her bed. She didn't draw back, and was mildly pleased to find that she had no immediate urge to do so. "Should I call you Agent Scully?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you planning to rejoin the Bureau?"

"I haven't--" Well, it was true, she hadn't exactly thought it through exactly. But, she realized, she had in fact automatically assumed that she would. Not just the Bureau. The X-files. That was where she belonged, they were her domain as much as Mulder's. Even after five years' absence. Even though there were six other agents who belonged there as well now.

"I am Agent Scully," she said aloud. And looking Pender directly in the eyes she added, "And I am myself. Not an imposter." To dispel the doubt that remained in his eyes she ended with, "Samantha was Mulder's sister. Her abduction twenty-five--no, thirty years ago, his search for her now, that's what brought Mulder to the X-files. And you knew that already."

Pender opened his mouth to reply to that, actually to add to it, because it was evident she hadn't heard the conclusion of that story. Well, when would she have heard, only two days ago she had been in an alien ship. It wasn't likely that Mulder had told her much of anything yet. Certainly not something as earth- shattering as that. But she'd find out soon enough as it was, and from what little Pender had gleaned from talking to her, she was strong enough to take just about anything. Strong enough even to support Mulder, as the Dana Scully of five years ago must have. Pender wondered if Mulder had strength enough to support her, though...

He didn't get a chance to say any of this. Before a single word emerged from his mouth Scully sat straight up in her bed.

"What is it?" he queried, keeping his voice low as he had for their entire conversation.

"Listen," she whispered, barely pronouncing the words aloud.

Holding his breath he could make out distant noises, possibly voices. Without a second thought he drew his gun and headed for the door.

Before he departed Agent Scully--he decided that was the best way to think of her now, she seemed legitimate so far--spoke again. "Agent Pender."

"Yes?"

Her eyes were on his gun. "It'd be safer if we had some way to defend ourselves."

He hesitated. In her case it was true, she would probably be better off with a weapon. "I'll get you one as soon as possible."

The noises resolved into shouting the moment he stepped out. The police officers were still standing by their assigned doors, but all staring apprehensively down the hall.

"What's going on?" he demanded. Mulder was involved, whatever it was; he was no longer on the chairs outside the room.

"I don't know," an officer said. "Your boss went to check it out. He gave us express orders not to move--" Obviously the man was not entirely comfortable with that injunction, but he hadn't disobeyed.

"Do exactly as he said, don't move from your posts, any of you," Pender commanded, raising his voice to be heard, and then he too took off down the hall.

The source of the shouting resolved itself shortly to be a doctor, on the night shift apparently and not entirely appraised of the situation. The man she was addressing was answering her questions with nothing, which wasn't helping her mood any.

"What are you doing here? Why these people?"

"Please show me the way to them, doctor."

"Not until you explain your reasons!"

Pender plunged into the verbal fray without hesitation. "What's going on here, doctor?" he demanded, glancing over the man. He wore a dark suit very like Pender's and his stoic expression was probably similar to the agent's, too.

They must have had some common trait because the doctor glared at him with the same force. "And what the hell do you want?"

"FBI, doctor," and Pender showed his badge.

This calmed her immediately and her look changed to one requesting assistance. "This man here is demanding access to what I was informed is a restricted section; he wants to personally examine several patients. I was told not to allow anyone in there."

Pender turned on the man. "Now what is your business there?"

"I am authorized to move several of the patients kept there to a more appropriate, secure facility," he was informed.

"And where's your authorization?"

From his pocket the man withdrew a folded paper. He glared momentarily at the doctor. "This is what I was trying to show you, doctor." Handing it to Pender he went on, "If you would, examine it. I assure you it and the signatures at the bottom are genuine."

The paper's watermark certainly was genuine, as was the letterhead and seal at the top. And Pender had seen the primary signature a couple of times; it didn't look forged though of course he wasn't an expert. He doubted it was. The message contained was probably genuine too. It had six names registered for removal from the hospital, though their designation was vague.

Pender frowned and handed the paper back. "As far as I can tell, it's legitimate."

The man's smug smile was wiped away by the agent's next words. "However, you don't have the authorization. I can't even allow you to speak with these people without permission from my director or from the Director of the Bureau."

"If you'll re-examine the signatures," growled the man, "you will see that the authorities in question all rank above Director Skinner."

Pender made a show of looking at the paper again. "I see that. I'm sorry, but it doesn't change a thing. I need the Director's permission, not that of his superiors." He smiled at the man calmly.

The man glared in return. "You will also note," he growled, "that any of those signatures could be found on your pink slip."

"Is that a threat? My job's pretty secure," Pender snapped, losing his grip on his patience. "It doesn't matter, I wouldn't let you through if you were the President of the United States himself. Now get out of here before I arrest you."

"Is that a threat?" demanded the man coolly.

"Yes," Pender informed him. For extra measure he shifted his hand down to his holster, which he had neglected to button after returning his gun to it.

The man watched the motion and blanched slightly. Good, as Pender suspected. A bureaucrat, they were trying to do this through legal channels first. Threats to careers were what this man was used to handling. Not threats to life.

"It would go a lot easier on you if you'd simply allow me to do my job," muttered the man.

"It would go a lot easier on _you_ if you'd simply leave quietly and never return," Pender replied, not budging his hand but closing his fingers around the gun butt. Not the easiest of measures to explain to any board he might encounter in his future, but oh well. He never considered himself a diplomat.

And it worked; the man left, complaining strenuously all the way. Pender had little hope that he'd stay gone, but was satisfied for the moment simply to have him out of sight.

He turned the doctor, who had observed the entire exchange with interest. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to..." he began, and trailed off. She would need to give her account to Mulder at least, and he wasn't going to tell anyone to lie. That was the opposite of what he believed, of what he stood for.

"You could have just been resting your hand," offered the doctor with a smile. "I don't think I really have to give little details like where you were resting it, do I?"

The only reason Pender didn't laugh out loud was because he hadn't done so for so long he had to make a conscious effort when he wanted to. "Thanks," he said instead. "That'd be helpful." Then he got down to business. "Now, what happened here? I realize you don't know who he was, but how did you know to stop him?"

"I was told..." the doctor paused, visibly collecting her thoughts, ordering her memories. "I'm on the night shift, I only got in two hours ago. I was told last night about the patients there," and she gestured down the hall, "but was also told I needn't concern myself with them. Tonight I was specifically told not only to keep away from them but to keep others away too. It's not quarantine but the rules are the same."

Pender nodded confirmation and she continued. "Twenty minutes ago I came to get coffee and saw three men, in suits, entering the hall. Since security wasn't in sight I asked for their identification myself, and they showed me FBI badges. I heard you guys were around, so I thought they might be legit, but to make sure I asked one of the officers in the hall, guarding the door. He called over someone from inside who was definitely FBI, Director Mulder he said he was, and the moment that director laid eyes on the three men they took off running.

"He--the director--told me, before he chased after them, to watch here and make sure nobody entered. And it's a good thing he did, because five minutes later that annoying SOB you just sent off was here demanding entrance. I'd've let him go in, too, if it wasn't for those orders. After arguing with him these last ten minutes, you finally showed up on your own--I couldn't go get some assistance because I knew he'd just sneak in. And with that letter those officers would have let him through." The doctor ended her tale with a sharp nod, confident that she'd acted correctly.

Pender focused on the part that concerned him; most of it he had already deduced from what he had seen. "Director Mulder, you say he pursued the three men trying to break in?"

"Yes, they ran for the stairs and he pursued. I'd say they were heading outside."

"And he hasn't come back yet?"

The moment the doctor began to shake her head he reached for his celphone, only to clutch empty space. Guss had it, he recalled. His partner had lost it during the abductees' return and Pender had given him his own tonight, because he said he was going to sleep and Guss was keeping watch. Actually he had gone to see Scully but he wasn't about to admit that to the other agents yet.

Unfortunately that meant he didn't have the celphone now. And Guss was watching the other side of the building, which explained why he wasn't here now. Mulder wasn't watching this side, he was supposed to have been but Pender had made him sleep, only of course the director _had_ to do his job--

By this time Pender was already on the first floor and in another second he was out in the hospital's parking lot. He scanned the area quickly, looking for the man he had so recently chased off. No sign of him.

Then he saw a figure jogging down the hospital driveway. He was heading toward him, not away, but he was wearing a suit and to be safe Pender pulled his gun. "FBI, don't move!"

"Freeze yourself!" hollered back the figure.

"Guss?" Pender demanded.

"I lost him," his partner said as he approached. "Assuming you're looking for the man that just departed the hospital. He was on foot and I had him covered and was about to grab him when a car pulled up between us and ten seconds later took off going about ninety. I got the plates at least."

"They'll be a dead end," Pender dismissed any hope. "Guss, how'd you know to be out here?"

"Director's orders, about fifteen minutes ago. How come you're here at all?" Guss shot back.

Pender ignored the query for the moment. "The director told you himself?"

"He called me." Guss indicated the celphone. "Don't worry, Pender, he hasn't exactly run off. He's chasing down more suspects and he's called for backup--Gibbons and Dubzinski are following in the other car." He gestured at the empty space their rental car had occupied half an hour prior.

"Give me back my phone," Pender commanded, snatching it out of his partner's hands. He auto-dialed Gibbons' number.

It was answered after one trilling ring. "Dubzinski here."

"Dubz? Where's Gibbons?"

"Next to me. She's driving pursuit."

"You're on their tail?"

"Sure thing, it's not too hard, the back roads are empty this time of night."

"Where's Mulder?"

"Behind us, should I wave to him?"

Pender didn't get a chance to respond. "Damn," Dubzinski swore. "They just switched off their lights--" Pender heard two oaths shouted simultaneously and a faint screech of brakes.

"What happened?" he demanded. Dubzinski's voice grew louder as he brought the phone back up to his head. In the background Pender made out Gibbons muttering expletives. "There's a fork in the road, they flashed the high beams to blind us and then switched 'em totally off. They must know this area, and we can't tell which road they took. And Mulder just passed us with his own lights off--"

The celphone trilled. Pender heard a beep as Dubzinski punched the button for multi-conversation. "Duzins--"

"You and Gibbons try the right, I've taken the left of the fork," the director's voice commanded. "These roads don't have any turn- offs for miles, we might be able to--" He broke off.

"Mulder?" Pender demanded.

"Never mind, I see them," was the reply.

"Do we follow you, sir?" Dubzinski inquired urgently.

"No, we're pretty far ahead. You get back to the hospital and make sure everything's secure--everything is, correct, Pender?"

"Everything's fine here at the moment," he answered. He assumed it was; Guss had gone back into the hospital, keeping watch there. Pender remained outside, on the off-chance that one of the culprits might return. "After you left some official turned up but I chased him off--"

"What did he want?" Mulder demanded.

"To move some of our patients--he had a list and a document with several influential names."

"What names?"

Pender told them. Dubzinski whistled. "They're really calling out the big guns, aren't they?"

"We need to find better protection," the director muttered. "If they're mobilizing this fast, we have to find a way--"

"We're working on it--" Pender began, and was interrupted by another trill, again not from his phone. Mulder answered it; Pender heard him say, "Yes?"

The voice that answered was female, but it wasn't Wong, as Pender had half-expected it to be. "Mulder, what's going on? Where are you?"

"Who are you?" Dubzinski replied, but was overridden by the director, who filled in the mysterious interrogator with a few terse sentences. He ended with, "...and you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Mulder, who else is listening to this?"

"Pender," Pender said, overlapping Dubzinski's query, "This is Dubzinski but who are _you_? How'd you get our number?"

"Your director gave it to me, along with the celphone," explained the woman on the line.

"It's your phone, Dubzinski," the director himself added.

"So that's why you...but who--"

"It's Agent Scully," Pender informed him quietly.

"_Who_\--"

The questioning stopped then because a thin crackle of static came over the line, followed by a distant rumbling noise. "What's going on?" Pender asked, at the same time Scully said, "What's happening, Mulder?"

"I'm on a dirt road," Mulder explained, "I think the power cables might be interfering. We're on a long driveway--" All sound ceased. "Their lights are on again. I'm stopping now, there are some trees in the way. If I'm lucky they won't see the car." Another short pause and then he continued with the report. "They've stopped too. There's a large brick building here, two stories, no idea what it's doing out here. Maybe an abandoned factory? They're getting out, four of them."

"Where are you?" Dubzinski asked. "Gibbons and I can be back-up."

"I'm not precisely sure," the director replied. "I can manage myself, you continue back--"

"Sir! Director Mulder!" Pender snapped. "You can't arrest four men by yourself--"

"I don't necessarily mean to arrest them. Just ask a few questions."

"They are most likely armed--"

"So am I, Pender. And I don't plan on going after all of them. Simply looking around inside this place might be enough--"

"Who knows how many are inside? Sir, please wait until we can send a team--"

"If they find I'm here, they'll clear out by morning. If they even suspect they were followed..."

"Mulder--" Pender protested, trying to keep desperation out of his tone.

"Mulder," another voice joined his, "Mulder, he's right, don't risk this."

"Scully, they'll get away."

"You know where they are," Pender said quietly.

"I'm sure a team can be sent over in a few hours, if you'd just find out where you are," Scully agreed.

"A few hours is all they need to disappear. You know that."

Pender had the peculiar feeling that he was eavesdropping but he couldn't help but add his own thoughts. "It won't be of any help if you disappear with them."

"Please, Mulder, just come back and send out someone else, you have a whole team..."

"...at your beck and call," Dubzinski spoke up suddenly. "We're almost at the hospital--"

"--I can get a cruiser to come round, we can wake up Wong and Burnett and head out there now," Pender completed the thought.

"But they need to know where to go," Scully told the director.

He sighed clearly over the phone. "Alright. Alright, I'll get back on the road and figure out where I am--"

The retort of a gunshot was unmistakable, tinny and distant though it was over the celphone. "Director?" Pender shouted, at the same instant Dubzinski demanded, "Sir?" and Scully cried, "Mulder?"

Pender pressed the phone so close to his ear that it hurt. He could make out the revving of an automobile engine and the crunch of tires on gravel. Then another gunshot, this one accompanied by a ringing crack.

"Mulder, what's going on?" Scully spoke for the three of them. A third shot sounded. "Mulder?" she repeated, her voice growing louder and higher in pitch.

The noise lessened, the grumble of the car on the dirt road replaced by a smoother growl as the vehicle picked up speed. Pender heard someone catch his breath and knew it wasn't his own self when Mulder spoke. "I'm okay. Don't bother sending that team."

"What happened?" Scully asked yet again.

"They must have had perimeter alarms inside. And you were right, Pender," his tone only faintly grudging, "they were armed."

"With what?"

"An eight-caliber shotgun, I think," Mulder said. "Anyone know a good auto-repair shop in the area? My windshields are shot--for lack of a better term..."

"Are you injured?" Scully inquired urgently.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "A couple of nicks from flying glass. Nothing serious."

"Should we still come?" Dubzinski asked.

"No." Mulder's voice was a mix of command and anger. "Don't try it, they'll be ready for you. Maybe in the morning, but they'll almost definitely be cleared out by then. We've lost them." The line buzzed briefly as he broke the connection.

A second buzz heralded Scully's hang-up. "You still there, Dubz?"

"Present and accounted for. Pender, what in hell was that all about? Who was that agen--"

"Later for that. You get back here now--and pick up Wong and Burnett on the way," Pender replied. "We have to figure out how to protect these people." He switched off the phone and returned to the hospital, calling Guss into the waiting room. Fifteen minutes later the rest of the team arrived.

"Okay," Pender began. "You," and he nodded and Wong and Burnett, "have been filled in on what just occurred, right?" They confirmed this and he continued. "We knew these people were in danger. That letter that man had gives us some idea what--and who--we're really up against. I don't think there's much doubt those signatures were legit.

"These people were all declared dead. And some of them were declared nonexistent, specifically so people like ourselves wouldn't discover why they had vanished." He allowed them a second of prideful smirking. Nothing could stay a secret from them for long; that was why they were all a part of this team. Once they all acknowledged this he went on. "These people are both alien abductees and human abductees. They were taken for testing by their own people as well as by flying saucers, and those others want the evidence of this gone. I don't know how far they'll go to accomplish that goal--but I'm willing to bet that murder is not out of bounds. Kidnapping certainly.

"Those returned been through enough already, I think we all want them to be safe. We have to find some way to protect them. Something better than simply giving them a bodyguard or two and keeping them locked away in a hospital, since it's obvious that isn't working."

"Besides, you said it," Gibbons remarked. "They've been through enough. They should be able to go home. They're back on Earth-- I think they want to be back at their own homes. With their own families." She looked at each of her fellow agents in turn. "I know that's what I'd want."

"That's what the ones I've spoken to have asked for," Wong added quietly, and the others nodded in agreement.

"That is exactly what we need, a way to protect them without interfering with their return to their homes," Pender stated, not mentioning aloud that in one case, returning to home would have an impact on the X-files division itself, and on the division's director. There would be time to discuss that later, answer all those questions that bubbled right beneath the team's surface calm. Right now..."Any ideas?"

"If our objective is to return them to their homes, the witness protection program wouldn't serve," Burnett commented.

"Nor hiding them away in a high-security area," Wong agreed.

"Though maybe hiding's our best bet," Dubzinski said slowly. "Try to shuffle them back in without letting 'them' find out. Half these folks don't even exist...no records of addresses or phone numbers, no way to track them. Just tell them to keep a low profile..."

Pender shook his head. "The one place records of these people probably do exist is in the files of their enemies. And only some of them were 'erased' as it was."

Gibbons tapped her fingers on her leg. "You know, maybe the witness protection program is a good idea after all. Contact their families and have them all change identities together. They'd have to settle somewhere else but they'd have some elements of their old life..." She paused and shook her own head. "Awfully tough to restart completely over, though, just when you thought you were home."

"Besides," said her partner, "if Pender's right, they probably got access to the program's records anyhow. They'd find them. That's the problem," and he sighed, "where can we hide them that they can't be found? I don't think they'd appreciate it, but at this point it seems like the only place they'd be safe would be in outer space..."

"Maybe that'd be the only safe place to _hide_ them," Guss said quietly.

Pender turned at his partner's first words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Guss answered, obviously still lost in thought, "that we can't really hide them, right? There's no place, no way to. So why hide them at all?" He shifted his gaze outward and met the eyes of the others. "If we hide them, then their deaths will be hidden too. That's just what these others want."

As one the other agents nodded, instantly understanding his point. "So," he continued, "why not do the opposite? Instead of keeping them in the dark--"

"--put them in the spotlight," Pender completed the sentence. "Make sure everybody knows who they are--"

"--Make sure that their deaths would be more publicized than the newest Star Wars film," Dubzinski exclaimed. "So any move our mutual foes make--"

"--is fully, totally, unavoidably exposed!" Gibbons was grinning. "I like it, what do you think, Pender?"

"I'm wondering why it took us so long to think up," Pender murmured.

"We'll need the director's permission to implement this plan," Burnett reminded them.

"Not to mention the permission of the patients," Wong added. "If you're planning on calling every news hound in the country onto their heels they should hear about it first."

Pender already had his celphone in his hands. He nodded at Wong's words. "We'll ask them in the morning if they'll allow their names and so forth to be given out. We can at least call the reporters, providing Mulder allows it." The other end of the line rang once and then it was picked up. "Mulder."

"Director, we have an idea." Pender outlined the plan and the reasoning behind it.

"Hold a second, please, so I can talk this over," the director said. Pender waited with impatience for three minutes or so and then Mulder came back on. "It sounds feasible, though Scully wants to make sure nobody's names are released without their permission. She extends her own."

"We're going to ask them tomorrow," Pender replied. "But we'll call the cavalry in right away." He hung up and turned to the others. "Green light, people! Tomorrow this'll hit the front page of every paper--but first we got to organize a press release."

They had nearly completed this when the door opened and a nervous nurse stuck his head in. "Excuse me? Are you the FBI agents?"

Pender stood. "What's wrong?"

"Sir, there's a woman out here, she is insisting on entering the restricted area but I was told--"

"I'll see to it," Pender assured her. The nurse, clearly relieved, lead him directly to the woman and then retreated back behind his desk.

Since they had yet to call any reporters, chances were good that this woman was not on the level. She didn't appear threatening, however. She was alone, dressed casually, and her expression was not in the least bit like the cold, emotionless look of the men earlier that night. Pender couldn't read all the feelings mixed onto her face, but they were obviously strongly felt--worry, hope, and anger predominating. To top it off, she was both rather older and smaller than Pender. Not especially a threatening figure.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

"Who are you?" the woman demanded.

Pender smoothly flipped out his badge. "Special Agent Pender of the FBI. Now, what are you trying to do?"

"I have to, please let me--" She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "I was told that my daughter was here. I need to know if this is true, please, my name is Margaret Scully and my daughter is--"

"Dana Scully," Pender told her. "How did you hear this?"

"Please, is it true, I was called by another agent," the words rushed out.

Pender had no wish to disturb her even further. Instead he said, "Follow me," and took her arm, guiding her to Room 53.

A quick knock and the director opened the door. He immediately saw past Pender to the woman with him. "Mrs. Scully," and without another word he hugged her, a quick hug very like one gives close relations.

"Fox," Mrs. Scully said, "she's here?"

"She's inside, she's alive," and he lead her through the door. Pender heard her gasp with what sounded like the beginning of a sob, heard another voice say, "Mom?" and then he conscientiously shut the door, not wanting to eavesdrop on a family reunion. He returned to the waiting room, frowning thoughtfully and muttering to himself in a shocked tone, "_Fox_?"

In that short period the release had been completed. The others were already on the phone, dialing various news agencies to spread the word. Since it was three o'clock in the morning, Pender yawned and told the team, "I'm going to the hotel, they won't be here before six."

"Hold on, Pender," Gibbons said. "That gives us three hours."

"Yes," Pender agreed. "Three hours of sleep. After twenty-four without I'm looking forward to it."

Dubzinski stood and positioned himself strategically between Pender and the door, which Guss had just closed. "Three hours, which can be spent much more productively than simple sleeping," Gibbons stated.

"How?" Pender demanded. He was definitely too tired for this.

"By answering a few simple questions," Burnett answered.

"Like who _exactly_ is that woman in Room 53?" Wong gave an example.

Pender groaned. "I do need sleep," he protested weakly.

He was positive they all exchanged wicked glances then. It was Gibbons who outright said it--"Maybe you're too tired to cunningly avoid questions, you think?"

Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, Pender sat down again. "What do you want to know?"

The following day nearly every paper in the country, not simply tabloids as would have been the case only half a decade before, had a long article on the incredible reappearance of sixty people, back on Earth after five years' absence. At first several of the more respectable papers were wary of stating with certainty that the people in question were truly alien abductees. But after a solid week of interviews on tape, paper, and film, with the abductees and the FBI agents who found them; after a multitude of scientists spoke to them and questioned them closely; after the families of the people in question came forward, many with their own experiences to tell, few people doubted that they had in fact come from an extended stay in outer space.

The question was raised as to why the disappearances of these people had been so much less publicized. The accepted explanation, concocted by some unknown soul, was out of simple embarrassment--the government was proud to flaunt its successes and covered up its failures. Why nothing more sinister was offered was not a question in anyone's mind. Most people didn't have suspicions and those that did already knew the answer--more cover-ups. Most of those suspicious ones were surprised that any of the story made it out at all.

The publicity had its intended effect, as far as those responsible could tell. No more threats to the safety of those sixty were made. After the first week the journalist swarms at least were small enough that the people could shove through them, back to their homes.

Not everyone returned to their old lives. They had been declared dead, for all intents and purposes. Most of them had lost their houses or apartments as well as their jobs. Some of them had lost families, to death or marriage or remarriage in a couple of sad cases. But they found overall that their new fame was an asset in finding new places to live and work. Many of them found new homes very like their old ones.

A few purposely took different paths, chose lifestyles they wanted, taking the experience as a chance to start again, do it right this time. And several relationships had formed through that awful year--for them--on the ship that did not break apart when back on Earth. Two even went to Hollywood--the screenplay they were co-authoring was the easiest thing in the world to write; after all, they had lived most of it personally.

But most tried to return to their old routine, their old life.

Only three weeks after her return, Dana Scully entered the J. Edgar Hoover Building and proceeded up two flights of stairs to the office of the Director of the FBI.

She had an appointment; the secretary waved her in without a pause.

Director Skinner stood the moment she entered, smiling and extending his hand. She took it, unable to prevent a grin from covering her own face. "Agent Scully, it's damn good to have you back."

Of course there was only one response to that, and cliche as it might be, it was exactly how she felt. "It's great to _be_ back, sir."

He gestured for her to sit down but continued to stand behind his desk. Scully felt a welcome wave of familiarity. The office might be different, the picture of the president changed and the plate on the desk saying Director instead of Assistant Director, but the feel was identical to memories from five years ago. Or one year ago.

Or in some ways, five years before that, when the man behind the desk was Blevins and she was only being assigned to the X-files to de-bunk them. Such thoughts lead her eyes on a quick survey of the office, and she noticed suddenly the absence of ashtrays, but Skinner spoke and her attention was channeled away.

"You know, I assume, of the changes the X-files division has gone through."

Scully nodded swiftly. "I know that I'm the eighth agent there now. And that Mulder's the director, of course."

Skinner looked her in the eyes. "How much has he told you, Scully? I imagine you've spoken to him some."

"Yes, sir." 'Some' was most definitely an understatement, and Scully was sure Skinner knew this.

The truth was, a day hadn't gone by that Mulder hadn't seen her four or five or six times, and many more hours. The first week, he was the 'bodyguard' that all the abductees had had for the first week. Helping hold back the steady flood of journalists and reporters and interviewers at her mother's door--as well as well-wishers and curiosity seekers and an amazing array of UFO buffs. Some of those buffs were quite respectable people--in fact, most of them were, since the seedier ones didn't make it past the police protection warnings for the most part.

A few did, of course. Two of which--well, three but the third appeared respectable--had been ushered in by Mulder himself. Scully had herself been surprised by the tears that came to her eyes when she saw them. She didn't mind their quick hugs, smiling at their reactions when she returned them--Langly looked uncomfortable, Byers startled, and Frohike...breathless. A nice, nondescriptive word that wouldn't detail the salicious wink he gave her afterwards.

They and other friends and family were welcome, but as for the rest she was incredibly glad Mulder was there to push them back when they got too inquisitive. Her mother was an enormous help as well, of course. Scully stayed at her house for the first two weeks, since her own apartment had been sold a few years before. Margaret was unbelievably patient with the whole endless string of callers (at the door; for the most part the phone stayed unplugged).

After the first week, when the flood turned more manageable and so far not one of the abductees had been threatened, the bodyguards departed. Except for Mulder, who stayed almost as present as before. He returned to his work half-heartedly, spending early mornings, lunch-breaks, and all evenings over at Mrs. Scully's, with her daughter.

Scully was happy with this arrangement. They had lost five years, she was no less determined than Mulder to catch up with them. She did mention how this might affect his work, but Mulder shrugged it off. "Skinner and the division know where I am, if they need to reach me."

"And Skinner doesn't mind a director who doesn't direct?"

"I think," Mulder said slowly, "that he knows I'll work better than ever when you're back with me, so he's willing to live with it for now." His expression was unreadable, a look Scully was growing accustomed to. Without being specific it spoke of five years, a lifetime or a time in which nothing lived. The brief glimpses of it she got were enough that she wondered if she indeed wanted the whole story. Mulder was not willing to talk about it, and she hadn't pressed then.

A week later she found an apartment, began rebuilding her life anew. To her surprise and pleasure the building she had lived in before had a vacancy, and her new apartment was directly above her old one.

Mulder helped her move in. He and her mother had kept most of her things; her mother had saved practical items like furniture, while Mulder had carefully stored away her own small music collection, library, and even videos...she had to go through his own collection to find them, a task worth it simply for the expression on his face as she did so.

Scully couldn't help but wonder, though, that he had kept it all, since he hadn't been using them. A sign, she guessed, of his conviction that she wasn't dead and she wasn't gone for good. And she wondered at the price of that conviction; what had it cost him to believe when she had a headstone in the same cemetery as her sister's? When her own mother had thought her dead and buried and mourned?

It certainly explained the triumph that occasionally sparked in his eyes of late, a look which proclaimed to the world, "I was correct, I have my partner again!" Even--especially, really--her mother had commented on it.

Well, he did have her back. And she fully intended to be his partner again. A week after moving in she called the central Bureau offices and the next day she returned, and now was in the office talking to Skinner.

Yes, I know about the six other agents. She hadn't met most of them personally, but Mulder occasionally dropped references.

And there was the matter of the automobile that had generally been parked outside her mother's house at night--it changed daily but it was noticeable. She had mentioned it to Mulder but instead of being concerned he had smiled slightly and told her not to worry, it was there at his orders. At least once she thought the person watching resembled the agent she had briefly conversed with in the hospital; from that she deduced who the others were as well, and Mulder had confirmed it.

"How much has he told you about the reasons behind expanding the X-files section?" Skinner asked her.

Scully shifted slightly in her chair. "Enough, I think. Just from looking at the papers I could have determined most of them. And from all the journalists I've been talking with.

"I know that the X-files are a matter of public knowledge now. I know that the Bureau values them enough at this point that they are in almost zero danger of being closed again. And I know that what they investigate is no longer considered as extreme as it once was."

"No longer as out there," Skinner agreed. The Director turned partly so that he was looking out of the window behind his desk. "Scully, have you heard about Mulder's sister?"

Interesting, the wording was almost identical to that of her mother's, two weeks ago. When her mother had asked she had used first names, but...

Scully had been reading the papers voraciously, trying to absorb half a decade's worth of news in as short a time as possible. She had started with current events and worked her way back, but she soon came across a confusing point.

He mother had a talent for explaining matters succinctly and to the point, while Mulder sometimes hedged and besides was ignorant often enough on commonplace affairs. So she went to Margaret with her question. "Mom? How come half the major papers have a UFO column? Why are sightings regularly on the news? We're abductees, I understand that everyone believes us, but that doesn't explain _why_ they believe us. Or this--" indicating a New York Times column five years ago found only in supermarket tabloids.

Her mother sighed. "You should ask Fox."

"_Mulder_ already believed. He'll be biased explaining how he convinced everyone else." Scully knew instinctively that her partner had to be involved in this change of public opinion.

"Dana, have you heard about Fox's sister?" her mother asked.

"What do you mean?" Dana hadn't heard that her mother had heard of Samantha, certainly.

"Ask him about it," her mother told her. "He should tell you himself." Scully would have protested but she went on. "Dana, he needs to talk about it. I don't know if he ever has. He wouldn't say a word about it to me..." Actually, Scully found out eventually, he hadn't said much of anything to her mother. Cut himself off from everyone. Margaret had called him many times at first, invited him over, but he rarely accepted. She had told her daughter that she suspected he blamed himself, that he was ashamed to be with his partner's family when he thought that he had lost her.

Knowing Mulder, Scully agreed with this diagnose, and was almost as angry, frustrated, and upset with Mulder as her mother had been. It was so like him to simply refuse all attempts at help, he preferred to wallow in misery and guilt alone. Margaret hadn't even seen him, much less spoken to him, in over six months, when he called her to say her daughter was back, alive, in a hospital in Wisconsin, and then hung up.

With all this in mind, Scully found a time to draw Mulder aside and ask him. Quietly, gently. There was more going on here than Samantha's abduction, that everyone seemed to know about. So she asked him what it was.

The answer came out, not too slow or too fast, measured, even pace, even voice. How five years ago at midnight, a light shone in a field, and an officer proceeding to the scene found there an old woman, dressed in white, unconscious.

The next day, Mulder recounted, he was called in, not only because the woman claimed to be an abductee, but because she claimed her name to be Samantha Mulder. And driving out to the hospital he tried calling Scully, but there was no answer, and there would be no answer for five years. But he didn't know that then, he simply left a message on her machine and assumed she would call whenever she got in from wherever she was.

"You had been driving back from your mother's," Mulder added on the side. "They found your car fifty miles away two days later. Two lucky auto thieves had discovered it, motor idling, in the middle of the street." Scully nodded; she remembered pieces of that night, driving along home on a deserted street and then the bright flash, and when it faded she was in a ship a thousand miles above the Earth's surface. But she had told Mulder this already and instead bade him to continue with his own story.

He didn't recognize her, his own sister, at first. And neither did she recognize him. But...so many memories from long ago were shared by the two of them. And a simple blood-test; her blood was red and the DNA matched with his family. He called his mother and she came and Samantha had an easier time recognizing her. And even though she could barely see the resemblance Samantha learned to accept the tall solemn man as her brother Fox even as he learned to accept this ancient woman as his sister.

Mulder went silent after he told Scully this, drawn into himself and his memories. Just as she was about to ask him more, right before she pushed him, he started to speak again on his own. Not to her, his eyes trained on empty space instead. But she was there to hear it, and she listened closely all the same.

He spoke of what it was like at first, to have his sister back again. Of how they laughed and cried and talked about the intervening years. Of the Stratego game he snuck into the hospital and the late nights talking and how it was so easy sometimes to forget how old they were, either of them, the short moments when age didn't matter and it was only Fox and Sam.

Of how other people also asked questions and how he fought to make them believe what his sister told them. Of how they brought in scientists and how some of them learned to believe. Of endless tests on Samantha and how he blocked the worst of them but couldn't prevent her from being prodded and quizzed and scanned and drained.

Of how some of those tests showed that she was aging, dying; but how none of them showed what could be done about it. Of how it happened later on that her mind wandered, that some form of senility came upon her and she sometimes wouldn't know who he was, or she was, or where she was. How sometimes she thought she was being taken again and sometimes she cried out for her brother Fox and couldn't understand that it was he beside her, holding her.

It all came pouring out in a disorganized rush, and Scully patiently stayed with the flow and understood most of it. Mixed into what he said of Samantha was mention of herself, how he wasn't told for more than a week that she was missing, how there were no clues and no starting point and he couldn't spend all his time searching because his sister needed him.

Later on, when Samantha died, he would blame himself that Scully had not been found, because at the time clues might have been uncovered he was elsewhere. He would blame himself for not knowing about it the first week, though from what Scully had heard it sounded like her disappearance had purposely been hidden from him.

By the end of the story his breath was coming in short sharp gasps and his face was pressed against his fists. "She died in the end, all the hospitals and doctors and medicines in the world couldn't stop old age. And after the funeral...I realized I didn't have anything else, so I went back to work."

"Back to the X-files," Scully said quietly.

"I thought--I thought I could find you, I thought if I looked hard enough, long enough, did everything, I could bring you back. But Skinner wouldn't let me work alone, he forced a partner onto me--I'm sorry Scully, I'm sorry, I didn't want to betray you..."

"How did you betray me?" Scully demanded, very gently.

"I got another partner. I got a new team to work the X-files. And I didn't find you. I didn't save you."

"Mulder." Scully reached out, took his head in her hands so she could look him in the eyes. "I'm here. You did find me in the end--"

He shook his head, denied it. "I was told where to go, but it was them who returned you--"

Scully shook her own head. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, Mulder. You were there. You found me. And I'm back now, Mulder. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"Do you--are you willing to come back to the X-files? Sometime in the future?" he asked hesitantly.

"I want to come back. Not sometime in the future. Right now. As soon as I can." She smiled at him. "I still have a place there, right?"

"You'll always have a place. You're my partner," Mulder told her, the fervent affirmation in his voice also burning in his eyes. Scully recognized fanaticism when she saw it, but that had always been a component of Mulder's personality and she accepted it willingly.

Lacking anything to say that could match it, she heeded the old adage that actions speak louder than words and put her arms around him. And though the hug wasn't as convulsive as the one she received when she first had been returned, the emotions behind it were just as many and just as powerful.

Skinner's voice drew her away from recent memories. "Agent Scully, I have one more question. It's personal, but I need your honest answer. Do you feel you're fully ready to return to work? Are you recovered sufficiently from your--" for once he hesitated, if only for a second "--your experience? You can perform your duties unimpaired?"

"With complete honesty," Scully replied, "I may need a couple of hours on the firing range to get back in practice, and I've been doing some catch-up work with medical journals but my science is still slightly out-of-date. But emotionally, I'm ready, sir. I feel confident that I can do my job better than ever. I've had a year-long leave of absence, and now I'm anxious to return to work."

The Director wavered for a bit between unease over the almost casual way she described the last five years and pleasure at the enthusiasm in her voice. He went with the latter emotion and smiled. "As I said, we at the FBI are lucky to have you with us again."

He stood and she quickly imitated the action, then shook hands with him. "And now, Agent Scully, better get to your post. The new X-files office is down one story, the third door on the right. The agents and Director Mulder are expecting you." As she headed for the door, he added, "Good luck, Scully. It'll take a little time for you to get acclimated, but I think you'll fit in fine with all of them. And welcome back!"

"Thank you, sir," she said and then proceeded out and down the stairs to her new offices.

The door was clearly marked with a brass plaque reading, "X-files Division, Federal Bureau of Investigation" and beneath that in smaller letters "Director Fox Mulder." A step up from the little black-and-white sign that had marked their offices five years ago.

The office itself was certainly larger and with more windows; but somehow it managed to be even more cluttered, the walls and even some of the windows covered with the familiar assortment of articles, posters, x-rays, and other scraps of evidence and memorabilia.

If she ignored the extra windows and the presence of three large desks instead of one, it felt almost exactly like the basement office. Just like a second home.

Except that was only if she ignored the six strangers in the room as well.

One wasn't a complete stranger. Agent Pender approached her immediately. "Agent Scully," he said. "Welcome to the X-files."

"It's good to be back," she answered him automatically, examining the other agents from the corners of her eyes. They were all watching her, and she couldn't read their expressions. Not openly hostile, but not welcoming, either. Even Pender's look belied his friendly words.

Mulder emerged from his office then, almost bouncing with eagerness. "Scully! What do you think? Like it? An improvement over the old domicile, you agree?"

"Definitely." She looked around. "Though somehow you manage to have even less room to actually work in."

Mulder shrugged. "As long as the work gets done, right?" He sobered slightly. "And we do have work. Can you dive right in or do you want some adjustment time first?"

"I told you, I'm ready."

Mulder's quick agreement was interrupted by Agent Pender. "Maybe you should at least introduce her co-workers, sir. We all know you're Agent Dana Scully, but you--"

"I think I know you, actually," Scully remarked. Mulder had talked about the other agents enough that she had the names, and they were each distinct enough to identify. "You're Agent Pender, of course--we already met." Pender nodded.

The tall young man next to him, with similar dark hair and brown eyes she also vaguely recognized, from the brief moment after the abductees' return and before they were all whisked off to the hospital. "You're his partner, Terry Guss."

"Yes, ma'am." There was either respect or a counterfeit of it in his tone, she couldn't be sure. There was also something odd in the look he shot his partner but she couldn't be sure what that was, either.

They were all standing in distinct pairs, which made the identifying even simpler. The large black man and the chestnut- haired woman next to him were both watching her with identical cool expressions. "You're Dubzinski and Gibbons," she said, indicating each respectively. "I met you briefly over the cel- phone." Gibbons arched one eyebrow and Dubzinski smiled slightly, remarking to her, "Right on."

The last two she hadn't really seen, except for brief glimpses during their turns watching her house. The blond man with the thin face and light eyes--"You're Burnett," and his partner, a slender Asian-American woman, "And you're Wong." They nodded simultaneously.

"She's good," Pender said suddenly. Mulder glared at him but the agent only shrugged. "So far you're doing well," he continued, speaking to her now. "I hope you'll work out here." That at least sounded sincere.

"Agent Scully has experience with the X-files," Mulder reminded his agents icily. "She'll do great, I guarantee it."

Scully almost smiled at the way every agent affected an embarrassed, ashamed look, for all the world like a class being scolded by a respected teacher. Something in their eyes told her it wasn't all a joke or a sham, either.

Pender didn't take the reprimand lying down, though. "I realize, sir," and he accented the 'sir' with something other than obedience, "that Agent Scully has experience with cases like the ones we deal with. But there's more to the X-files than that now, and she has to be able to work with us to work efficiently."

Scully decided that something needed to be proved here and it was her duty to do so. "I realize you have a team and I'm more than willing to become part of it. If you let me, I think I'll be able to perform up to your standards, working with you."

"I think it's possible," Pender said quietly, and that sounded sincere as well.

"Speaking of work, we all have some," Mulder said then, breaking some of the heavy atmosphere. "Scully, come into my office, I've got some things to catch you up on and a case I need assistance with. Everybody else, back to it!"

Scully followed Mulder into his office, waiting until the door was shut before speaking her mind. "What are my chances of being fully accepted by them?" she cut to the point.

Mulder sat on his desk and folded his arms, staring at her shoes moodily. "Pretty good. But it might take some time."

"I'll say. You were more accepting of me at first than they were."

"And considering the way I acted, that's not saying too much," Mulder agreed.

"Actually it says a lot, but nothing good," Scully sighed.

"But we worked out right in the end," Mulder went on, "and if you give them a chance and they give you one, this'll work too. They're all very good at what they do, Scully. And very good at doing it as a team. It always takes some time for the newest member to find their place, but after that..."

"The question is, Mulder, do I have a place, or do I have to find a new one?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

Scully leaned against the desk next to him. "I'm your partner. You keep telling me that. Except you aren't an agent anymore. You're a director."

"That doesn't change a thing," Mulder began.

"Yes it does." She tapped her fingers on the desktop. "I didn't really realize it until just now. The way you ordered them all back to work and then ordered me into here."

"It wasn't meant to be an order," he protested.

"Maybe not, but that's what it was. I'm not angry about it, Mulder. But it's a change. You're not one of the team members, you're the boss. You give the commands and you're pretty used to being obeyed. From the way they act you're a democratic leader but you're still the leader." Scully grinned momentarily. "I didn't ever see you as the leader type, actually, Mulder."

"So I'm the director."

"Directors don't generally have partners. Agents do. But you can't just go back to being an agent when this division needs a director."

"And you agree that I'm not half-bad at the job. So," Mulder put his hand over her tapping fingers, stilled them. "I don't follow the mainstream. This director, as of now, has a partner." His lips quirked into a smile she knew very well, and hadn't seen for much too long. "Who I, as director, hereby grant to be my complete equal, under no obligation to obey my orders and with full powers to issue her own orders--though I'm not obligated to follow them myself. I do ask one thing."

He waited for Scully's questioning look before continuing. "I ask for you to at least listen to my advice when I give it. And I ask for you to advise me. Agreed?"

Scully stifled a sigh and smiled. "Agreed."

"Good." But he had caught her trepidation. "Don't worry. It'll work. Just be patient--with me, and with them--and you'll be a full X-files agent and my partner again in no time."

Scully wasn't the only one with doubts. In the main X-files office Guss listened to plenty more.

He didn't say much himself. Being the newest agent--well, second newest, now--he didn't think he was particularly ready to pass judgement on other agents' abilities. Especially since Agent Scully was in fact a well-experienced agent in the X-files and had the director's full support besides.

But the others had no such qualms. "We can't just accept her, no questions asked," Gibbons protested. "It doesn't work like that. We don't work like that. Instant team-members just don't happen, not here."

"No matter what the director wants," Dubzinski backed her up. "We don't know her at all, it might work out--"

"But it might not," Burnett said. "There's no way to know. But will Mulder accept it if she doesn't work out?"

"He won't," Gibbons stated. "You see the way he treats her, talks to her, talks to _us_ about her. There's no way he'll let her go if she wants to stay."

"He does have confidence in her," Pender remarked. "That counts for something."

"He had confidence in every agent we've ever had here. Most of them didn't work out--Guss was the sixth agent we tried!"

"But Agent Scully is the only agent who's ever been on trial who actually has been part of the X-files. Other than Mulder himself," Pender replied.

"But we don't know her. Just because he does doesn't mean that we do," Gibbons snapped.

"You've told us something about her, Pender," Wong mentioned, "but there still is the whole matter of her abduction. She might have changed from who Mulder knew."

"Can she still perform as the Agent Scully of five years ago?" Burnett asked.

"And will Mulder accept it if she can't?" Wong concluded.

"The director's another concern," Gibbons said. "I think we all agree that he's--changed. From who we knew before." She raised her hand to stop Pender. "Not that I'm saying it's a bad thing. We also all agree that it's definitely for the better. But it makes one think--what will happen with Mulder if something does happen to her again?

"The Bureau's got rules against personal involvement between partners, and for good reason. We can't do our duties correctly if we're too concerned over what our partner's doing." She looked them all over, every partnership among them based in firm friendship. "Now, we all are close, because that's how we work best. But we don't cross the line."

Again she had to forestall Pender's commentary. "I'm not saying that Mulder crossed it with Scully. Not like that. I'm not trying to imply anything. But I think it's clear that his well- being is tied up with her welfare somehow, and that concerns me. And it should concern the rest of the team. If the director can be incapacitated--"

"He wasn't before," Pender finally got a word in. "He can work without her. He has for the last five years," he reminded them.

"Will he be willing to again, though?" Gibbons demanded. "I'm not trying to insult the director, or undermine him, or anything like that. But it's a real concern I have, and one we all should share, I think. Is it safe for this division for our director to have Agent Scully as a partner?"

"Or for her to even be in this division at all?" Burnett echoed her. "If you follow Gibbons' logic. It's a reasonable concern."

"One we should watch for," Pender said sharply. "But don't dismiss Agent Scully outright on theoretical concerns. Everyone gets a fair trial in this division. We all bring weaknesses as well as strengths to the team. And if you only evaluate Scully's weaknesses and ignore her strengths--then you're a bigger weakness than she is, and a liability that we should dispose of.

"Don't form opinions based solely on your own ideas, wait to pass judgement until you have something to judge. Anything else is prejudice against a single person, and we don't need that. The team can't survive with it. Get it?"

"No anti-Scullyists. We got it, Boss Pender," Dubzinski said, adding a salute for good measure.

"But if we're against her after we know her?" Burnett asked.

"Then we go to Mulder and put up a good case," Pender said calmly. "And let him decide. He is the director, after all."

"Which doesn't make him omniscient," Gibbons muttered, but not loudly enough that Pender had to respond to it.

Instead he said, "Now, since he is director, let's be obedient agents and return to work, like he told us to." And following his own advice he seated himself at his desk and called Guss to join him.

There were seven reports for them to look over and see if any warranted personal attention. Guss picked up one and looked at it, seeing the words but not reading them.

"So what's your take on this?" Pender asked him in an undertone.

Guss knew his partner wasn't referring to the file. "I'm new myself. I'm not sure I should even have one."

"Everybody's got opinions, Guss. And you're part of this."

Guss nodded. "I understand with what Gibbons is saying. I agree with some of it. But Pender, you told us who she was. It sounds like she's a top agent."

"She is, from everything I've heard."

"Would that hurt the team? I saw her right after she was returned, remember. She was in control then, she knew what to do, if I had been one of those abductees I would've been one of the ones curled up in fetal position. I think she's better than us--I know she'll be a better agent then me."

"I wondered if anyone else was thinking that. I think Gibbons might be."

"She certainly doesn't want to accept Scully."

Pender inclined his head thoughtfully. "She'll come around, I think. I hope. There will be problems otherwise."

"So," Guss said quietly, "I'm for her. I think Scully should stay. But there is one thing that I've been wondering about. Wong mentioned it briefly."

"Yes?"

"Well, we know Scully was a top agent five years ago. But she must have been affected _somehow_ by the abduction. She might be biased one way or another about other abductees. She might have other problems--"

"Phobias, paranoia, hallucinations, bad judgement, impaired skills--the standard post-abduction trauma," Pender listed. "She's been tested, I saw at least one psychological evaluation."

"You checked?" Guss wasn't all that surprised, though such an evaluation would most likely be classified from his or his partner's eyes. Pender followed the rules--except when they weren't beneficial to the team.

"I checked, and she came out clean, more than clean, spotlessly perfect. She's a straighter arrow than most of us." Pender grinned. "Can't help but wonder what sort of problems that might cause. Anyhow, Agent Scully is as balanced as they come, at least when it comes to abductees."

"So I think, myself, that we should be welcoming her with open arms," Guss said firmly.

"That makes two of us--three with Mulder. Now the only problem is bringing the others around."

"Pender," Guss said cautiously, "Are you for her?"

"I think I've made my position pretty clear."

"You're for Director Mulder," Guss replied. "I'm not sure that's exactly the same thing."

"Maybe not," Pender answered. "But for now, it's close enough."

And they got to work. The others as well held whispered conversations but recalled their duties soon enough, so when Mulder and Scully emerged for lunch they all were quite busy. The two headed out alone.

Gibbons raised her eyebrows at the others. "The director just went out for lunch? Without a single reminder from us?"

"Seems like Scully has her uses," Dubzinski remarked. "I'll bet you ten bucks that that's why he's been going at all lately when we remind him."

"Anyone take a bet as to _where_ he's been going for lunch?" Guss asked.

"You mean, with whom," Dubzinski corrected. "I certainly know who I'd put my money on--but so would everyone else. No deal."

His partner nodded, slowly meeting the eyes of everyone else in the office. She didn't say a word, but her meaning was clear.

After the break they all continued work as usual, Mulder, with Scully's accompaniment, checking on the others' cases. He dismissed several undecided as hoaxes or otherwise pointless, and agreed with Gibbons and Dubzinski on the importance of one, immediately dispatching them to check it out personally.

Scully observed the group intently, learning how this new division functioned, and offering her own opinions frequently. Guss was surprised by many of them. His own partner had been the biggest skeptic of the team, not buying paranormal theories without fairly solid proof.

But Pender's position was obviously threatened, because Agent Scully proved to be a master of skepticism. The way she spoke, Guss doubted she would accept anything that wasn't proved six times over in every school of science plus had been recorded on film and preferably allowed itself to be seen, heard, and touched by her personally.

And that was after she had spent five years--a year--in an alien vessel, living with beings that some people still suspected were figments of overactive imaginations. What had she been like before?

Guss could understand how she could have been an excellent agent in the X-files, though. Sometimes a skeptic was just what was needed to keep them on track. For that matter, Pender could use the help, and everybody else would get practice strengthening their theories that much more to please her. Guss decided it was a plus and kept with his private decision to support her.

Mulder was oblivious to all the concerns his team had over their newest member. His welcoming acceptance of Scully blinded him to the apprehensions of the other agents, or at least he ignored the ones he sensed.

And then he and those of his team had other, larger matters to see to, and the difficulties of the group had to be put aside to attend to the greater problems.

Pender was the one approached, while exiting his car early the next morning. A tall figure in a trench coat stepped out of the shadows of the parking lot and spoke to him. "Agent Pender."

"Yes?" Putting all the melodrama of the setting aside, Pender answered the summons without even reaching for his gun. However, he knew exactly where it was located against his hip and while he wasn't an Old West gunslinger his quickdraw wasn't bad.

Outwardly he stayed calm and noncommittal, but beneath his jacket his arm was tensed and his fingers ready. Pender had been in danger before, but generally he waited for it to present itself openly before making a move.

"I must speak with your director," the man told him.

"Why?"

"Your director _is_ Fox Mulder," the figure stated with a hint of impatience.

Pender nodded slowly. "Then," the other man went on, "as soon as possible tell him to meet me at the shark tank tomorrow at 11:15 PM. He'll understand where," he added, when he saw Pender's questioning regard.

"Maybe so," Pender said wryly, "but why would he want to go? Wouldn't it be simpler to just tell me what to tell him?"

"Ah, but that isn't the tradition," murmured the other.

Pender knew enough of Mulder to know that tradition, or at least Bureau tradition, wasn't exactly standard operating procedure. But this obviously wasn't Bureau tradition--"Even if Mulder does get information from...questionable sources," and the look he shot the figure was too obvious to be missed, "why should he listen or want to hear what you have to say?"

From the depths of his dark coat the man pulled out an object and tossed it at Pender's feet. The agent picked it up, inspected it curiously. "Show that to your director," the man said. "He'll come." And he walked back into the shadows.

Pender decided that pursuit in this instance would most likely accomplish little to nothing. And besides, the dramatic mystery of the whole affair appealed to his more playful side. If this man was a crank, it would be a good story to bounce around the office. Why ruin it by catching him, forcing his identity out?

And if he was the real thing, following him might not be the best thing for Pender's future. He had had contact with similar types before.

So, let the show go on. Pender marched in the building and upstairs to their office. As was often the case, he was the first agent in, though he was surprised to find Mulder out. A quick memo check proved that he was in the Bureau Director's office for some reason or another.

Not one to be intimidated by rank, and confident in his own association with Director Skinner, Pender proceeded to the latter's office with all due haste. The secretary let him in without too much fuss, so the meeting couldn't be that urgent.

Skinner raised his eyebrows marginally at the agent's entrance; Mulder's placidity was undisturbed. "Agent Pender," the Director inquired with a hint of sarcasm, "how may we help you?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting something important," Pender began, and was rewarded by Mulder's quick negative gesture, "but I had an encounter that I was told to tell you about." And he related the entire experience as accurately as he could recall it.

Mulder listened closely, brow slightly furrowed in thought. "What'd this man look like?" he asked.

"Tall, Caucasian, grey-haired I think--the light was dim. Old, perhaps in his 60's. Sort of rough voice with maybe a little accent, but I couldn't identify it. Umm, good pronunciation, maybe that's all it was."

Skinner shot Mulder a glance; the division director shrugged. "It could be any number of people, some of them are nuts and some are the real thing."

"One more thing," Pender said, "He ordered me to show you this, said you'd go if you saw it." He took out the object and placed it on the Director's broad desk.

The moment he looked up he knew the man hadn't been a crank. Mulder's eyes were twice their normal width and Skinner's jaw had literally dropped. In a toneless voice the Director croaked, "I thought he died years ago...assassinated..."

"Or from cancer," Mulder hissed, with a bitter, biting rasp Pender couldn't remember hearing from him ever before.

For his own part, the agent was amazed that such violent reactions could be produced by as simple a thing as an empty pack of cigarettes, the brand name Morley clearly printed on the cellophane.

Mulder was to meet with the stranger. The moment Pender produced the cigarette package it seemed as if neither the division director nor Director Skinner had any doubts about that.

Mulder was also explicitly clear with Pender as they waited in the office for the other agents to arrive.

"You are not going to be my back up, Pender."

"Sir," the agent insisted, "he never said anything about coming alone."

"He knows that _I_ know the rules of this kind of thing. And one of them is that I myself am the only one who attends this meeting. The more people there, the more dangerous it is for all concerned. And that's another thing, Pender. You aren't saying a single word about this to anyone--even the other agents."

"They'd all support you completely."

"I know," Mulder said. "Physically. I couldn't keep them all away, so it's too risky to let them know."

"What about Agent Scully?" Pender wanted to know.

"Scully...I especially won't tell her, and neither will you. She's the only one I have no way of deterring. Even Director Skinner couldn't stop her--and he wouldn't try."

"I think it would be best if you at least followed Skinner's suggestion of a bug and a subcutaneous tracker. If this is a trap--"

"It's impossible to tell."

"Mulder," Pender said. "I saw your expression. I can see it now. Whoever this man is, he's your _enemy_. Lex Luther. Moriarty. Darth--"

"Your knowledge of contemporary literature astounds me." The director's sarcastic tone turned pensive. "I don't honestly have the slightest idea whether or not this is a trap. My instincts aren't saying much, and to be honest," and he smiled sardonically, "they've never been the most trustworthy feelings.

"But every one I possess is telling me to follow this through. Something big is going down, I know that from experience. Pender, I need you to do something for me."

"What?" demanded the agent suspiciously.

"It may be a trap, as you've said--"

"Right, so I'll follow you--"

"NO. You stay with Scully."

"Scully?" Pender echoed.

"If it's a trap, it's just as likely for her as for me."

"They haven't made a single move toward any of the return abductees since the first night they came back," Pender reminded him.

"I know. If something is done at this time it'll be solely to get at her. Possibly me as well."

"I think she's as capable as you at taking care of herself," Pender argued, silently adding, 'and probably more so.'

"Yes, but she isn't going into a situation in which a tail is dangerous. You've been keeping an eye on her anyway, right?"

"We all drive by her place occasionally, make sure everything's all right," Pender admitted.

"Tomorrow night stay in her house, outside her house, I don't care if she knows you're there or not, just make sure you're watching her and you're ready to prevent anything funny from going on," Mulder instructed. "You'll do this, Pender?"

"I'll do it," the agent acquiesced with a sigh of great misgivings.

Despite this, the next night Mulder was shadowed so carefully that he didn't even know he was being watched as his cab pulled into the aquarium parking lot. The place was closed but a side door was unlocked, possibly for some work crew or security guard. The watcher found a secret place far enough from the shark tank that he couldn't be easily detected and close enough that not only could he hear every word, but if something went wrong he'd be in a position to offer assistance.

Seventeen minutes after ten, a dark auto parked at the back of the lot, deposited a passenger, and drove away, Mulder observing all from the shadows. The man took the same route as the director, making his way through the darkness to where Mulder stood concealed.

"So it is you," hissed the director as soon as the man was close enough to identify.

"Of course it is," scoffed the other.

"I should've known you couldn't die."

"So harsh, Agent--or rather, Director Mulder? After so long I thought a man like you would have left such resentment behind."

"After so long I thought a son of a bitch like you would have slithered back to hell where you belong."

"Not the first time such a comparison has been drawn. You're not as original as you would like to think," said the man. He continued, "No matter. I came here for more important matters."

Mulder grew visibly tense. "Why, then?"

"Patience, Director. Unless you'd like to try to elicit answers from me at gunpoint again?"

"If the technique works," Mulder growled, "stick with it. Besides, I would have thought you'd want to hurry. How safe is this meeting place?"

"Safe enough. No one ever knew of this particularly rendezvous point."

"Except you."

"I knew about your 'deep background' for as long as you did."

"And you killed him for it," Mulder accused.

"Not for that precisely. The man you used to put the 'X' in your window for, yes. But not your first contact." There was an odd emotional quality to the dry words and voice that was hard to understand. It was soon pushed aside, though. "Now who is stalling, Director?"

"Say what you wanted to tell me and then we can both get out of here."

"Watch your agents closely, Director. They've crossed the path of something you and Agent Scully both might find intriguing."

"What do you mean?" Mulder pressed.

Both his face and that of the man were briefly illuminated by a flare of a match. The light soon dwindled into an orange glow at the end of the cigarette in the informant's mouth. "Two days ago," he said around it, "two of your agents were dispatched. You should consider pursuing their case with them."

He chided Mulder, "Really, Director, I should think you would have been alerted by the location. So close to a place where I believe you've...visited before. In a search you were more concerned with than in this matter--but since that motivation has disappeared, perhaps you could take up another cause."

"You're saying I should check them out again?"

"That they might warrant another look is all I'm suggesting."

"You're really covering your ass on this," Mulder said. For the first time his tone was subdued. "Are you going to try to convince me this meeting isn't part of your organization's master plan?"

"I'd never attempt to convince you of something so hard to prove, Director," replied the other calmly.

"Why?" The threat and anger had almost completely vanished from Mulder's voice. "What's your motivation? From certain others I bought excuses like attacks of conscience or chances of redemption. But _you'll_ never convince me of anything of the sort.

"I have an agenda. In some minor ways it diverges from the goals of the rest. Perhaps recently that divergence has grown slightly." The man removed the cigarette from his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke around the glowing tip. "As I have told you before, I am doing what I believe is right."

"Right for you. I wonder about the rest of the world," Mulder commented caustically.

"Investigate what I've told you and find out," said the man. "Perhaps we can meet again, elsewhere, Director Mulder. If this proves to be productive."

"We'll see," was the director's gruff response.

"Oh, and I must compliment you on your back-up," added the man suddenly. "I would have had no idea he was there--if I hadn't employed the best shadower of my own to keep watch. I almost expected Director Skinner to make some unfortunate play." And without another word from either him or Mulder he strode away in the opposite direction from where he came.

For several minutes there was silence, disturbed only by the faint hum of the dimly lit aquarium tank filters. Mulder's voice broke the silence. "Come out, whoever's there. I am a federal agent and I am armed."

"Yes, sir," Guss replied, and stepped marginally out of the shadows, relying on movement more than visibility to reveal his location.

Mulder squinted across the darkness. "So Pender didn't fully disobey."

"No, sir. He's watching Agent Scully now. And he would have called if something had happened."

"But," the director went on, and Guss was glad that in the dimness Mulder couldn't see him flinch, "he told you. Who else? The other agents?"

"I was the only one. I'm his partner, sir. He can't keep secrets from me, that's not the way he's made. And I could tell he had one and I was the one who pressed him." In his own interests he added, "He wanted me to keep watch on Scully but I thought that he should at least do that much of what you wanted, sir. And I'm fairly good at surveillance detail."

"So I've observed. I'll remember that for future work."

"Yes, sir." Guss wondered if he was setting some sort of division record of number of "sirs" in a single conversation. At least he hadn't been fired and it didn't sound like he was going to be. "Sir, you took a taxi here, can I give you a ride back?"

"Your car is here?"

"A rented one, actually. In case you could recognize mine. I have it until Thursday--plenty of time to drive you home."

"I might as well save on cab fare," Mulder sighed.

On the drive back Mulder swore Guss to absolute secrecy concerning everything he had heard. "And don't tell Pender."

"Yes, sir."

The director eyed his agent suspiciously. "I'd prefer a sworn oath on a Bible."

"Sorry, I don't have one on me," Guss answered back, then immediately added, "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to--"

Mulder smiled, a trait that Guss still was not completely comfortable with. The frown it morphed into was equally unreasuring, however. His words were easier to deal with. "Don't worry about it, Guss. I'm not angry with you--just with your partner."

"I can take responsibility for my own actions. Sir."

"Yes," Mulder argued, "but you wouldn't have acted if it wasn't for Pender going against my direct orders and telling you about the whole deal in the first place."

Since Guss couldn't come up with a good rejoinder for that he stayed quiet. Mulder went on. "Just avoid telling him what happened. And don't mention a word to the other agents, either." He paused and said at last, "Especially Agent Scully."

Guss shot him a brief look before turning back to the street, steering. Mulder stared straight ahead, eyes watching the pavement shoot by underneath them. "This is something of a personal matter, Agent. Keep quiet about it."

What Guss wanted to say but didn't was that it hadn't sounded like a personal matter. It sounded like an X-file. It involved what Gibbons and Dubzinski were investigating and it sounded like something the entire team should be on. Particularly if one of their own was concerned with it, and Agent Scully was technically one of them.

In fact, Guss hypothesized, Agent Scully could probably unscramble the cryptic clues the smoking stranger had given Mulder. Which was almost certainly why Mulder didn't want her to hear them.

While Guss generally followed orders and took the director's requests very seriously, he did have the final choice whether or not to take certain actions. And if taking certain actions was the right thing to do, he was perfectly willing to accept the consequences that accompanied them.

The result of this was that by next morning Pender had heard Mulder's conversation with as much accuracy as Guss could recall. Which meant in turn that neither he nor Guss were much surprised when the director announced he was joining Dubzinski and Gibbons in Pennsylvania to help them follow up some loose ends.

"Let me take a quick stop by my apartment first if we're flying out today," his partner asked.

"No, I need you to mind the store here, Scully," Mulder responded. "This probably won't take two of us anyhow. Think you can manage everything alone for a couple of days?"

Scully's expression was far from trusting, but all she said was, "No Mulder, I don't think I'd have any problems."

"Good. I'll be back before you know it." And he was on his way.

Scully retreated into his office. Less than an hour later she emerged and approached Pender and Guss's desk.

"I want you to give me a run-down on what exactly Gibbons and Dubzinski are working on. The case file isn't specific enough."

Pender exchanged a quick glance with his partner and stood, unconsciously or purposely forcing Scully to look up to face him. "It isn't much. About a week ago ten people literally disappeared from their beds. Three days later they were found, dazed, in a field at night, with no memory of the previous seventy-eight hours. The next night ten others disappeared, with the same results, except they turned up in a lot on the other side of the city."

"That's all in the report. And two days ago another ten vanished. They're scheduled for appearance late sometime tonight." Pender nodded and Scully continued. "So what have Gibbons and Dubzinski learned?"

"Obviously we all are thinking of extraterrestrial involvement," Pender said. "They haven't found real evidence of that but they've turned up some side notes of interest."

"Go on."

"The city has had abductions before. At one time a MUFON group was centered there. But what's odd in this instance is that all the people vanishing have only recently moved to Allentown, most of them in the last year. There's other commonalities--history of sleep-walking, phobias. Several have reported medical problems and a few even state they've been 'taken' before."

Scully remained expressionless throughout this description. At the end she said, "So the theory is that these are previous abductions. Sounds very familiar."

"Yes, well," Pender remarked, "that could be why Mulder didn't want you along." At Scully's sharp look he added, "That is what you're trying to find out?"

"Why he doesn't want me?" Scully smiled a little. "I suppose so. You'd think by now I'd be used to being ditched."

"He's certainly a champion at it," Pender replied.

When Scully had left their desk Pender called Gibbons' celphone. "Just wanted to warn you, the director's joining you."

"Oh, he is?" Gibbons' voice came. "There's not that much here for him. We're staking out every empty field around Allentown tonight, or trying to. See if we can catch a glimpse of who or what's returning these folks. I don't know that there's much for Mulder to see."

"See that there is," Pender ordered.

"Come again?"

"Find something to interest him. If he does come to you, make sure that he stays around you two."

Gibbons groaned. "He's going to run off _again_? I thought he'd finally quit that now that Scully's returned."

"Yes, well, he's running off without her too. And that doesn't strike me as a good omen. Hold him if you can until we figure out what he's doing there."

"Dubz and I'll do what we can," Gibbons agreed.

Pender paced once around the desk. Guss could hear his partner muttering under his breath. "This isn't good. How 'n hell are we supposed to track him if he tells _no_ _one_ where he's going? By now you'd think he'd've learned--"

"Pender," Guss interrupted. "There is a solution."

"What do you mean?" The agent was instantly attentive.

"I bet Scully could guess where he's going."

"And how do you make that deduction?"

Guss shrugged. "She has had more experience with the director than even you, Pender. She knows elements of his personal history that none of us do. I bet--"

"None of that experience is helping her now, she's as much in the dark as we are," Pender said dryly.

"You're exactly right about that," said a voice behind him.

Pender's expression, something only Guss was at the right angle to see, could have won an award. But he quickly smoothed it into a blank, impassive look to face the speaker. "I didn't hear you leave the office, Agent Scully."

"I did it very quietly." The edge of her lips curled up minutely. "Eavesdropping isn't polite--but you learn a lot more. And now," she pointed at Pender and Guss, "you both are going to enlighten me. Where. Is. Mulder. Going." Every word shot out like a bullet.

Before Pender could stall Guss took control. Quietly, discreetly, he summarized the situation, Pender's encounter, Mulder's meeting, taking particular care to describe the stranger's exact words.

Just the mention of the cigarette pack was enough to turn Scully's face pale but she listened without interrupting. Pender finished the story, at last getting a word in over his partner. "We can't say where he's going. I know him well enough to see that it's something dangerous, something he doesn't want to risk- -us on."

"You mean, risk me," Scully observed.

"Yes, ma'am."

Scully glared at him. "I'm a fellow agent, remember?"

Guss, who remembered Pender chastising him for the use of 'sir' to an equal, was hard-pressed not to let hint of amusement show.

"And I'm glad you told me." She cocked her head up at Pender. "I know where he's gone."

"You do?" Pender performed a classic double-take.

"Almost certainly. Unfortunately." She took a deep breath. "Five years ago, shortly before I--Mulder broke into a research institute in Pennsylvania. It wasn't exactly on a case. The matter he was investigating...it involved the MUFON group you mentioned in Allentown.

"From what you've said, I'd say it's very likely that's where he's heading."

"So what do we do?" Pender demanded, deferring--somewhat--to her judgement.

Scully narrowed her eyes. "Unless we're too late and he's already reached there--"

"Most likely he'd at least check in with Gibbons and Dubz."

"Then our best bet is to handle the matter ourselves. Wong, Burnett?"

The other two agents looked up from their work.

"You can handle things alone?"

After a quick glance at each other and another quick querying look to Pender which he answered with a nod, they agreed.

"Then Pender, Guss, meet me in the lot in two minutes." And she was gone, whipping into the office to grab her things.

Pender glared at Guss. "You heard her," he said. "Get ready to go and stop smirking!"

"Aye aye," Guss saluted his partner, and got moving.

* * *

On the plane Pender called Gibbons to re-appraise her about the situation.

"Where are you going?"

"Lombard Research Facility. It's a fertility clinic according to the maps, but Scully says five years ago more was there and still might be. Mulder's actions indicate that he agrees. He reached you yet?"

"No, his plane should be landing any time, though."

"Same instructions as before, then. Hold him there as long as you can. And if he's going to bolt..." He hesitated before continuing. "Tell him where we are."

"Understood."

"One more thing--I'm sending Guss along to back you up."

"What?" This was the first Guss had heard of this.

"He'll be with you in a couple hours." Pender disconnected and then turned to deal with his partner. "Three of us wouldn't do any more good than two, and it'd be one more person in danger."

"But why not--" Guss didn't finish but glanced pointedly at Scully, sitting behind them reading medical journals. Still catching up, apparently.

Pender lowered his voice. "Because I have the authority--sort of- -to tell my partner he can't come. It's my turn to ditch you." Meaning, of course, that he wasn't going to try to tell Scully to stay behind.

"You're right," she said suddenly, "there's no way you could just drop me off."

"Do you have to do that?" Pender asked, half-annoyed and half- joking.

"I was left in charge. It's like baby-sitting five-year-olds, let me tell you." For a brief instant her face lowered. "Do you know if children still watch the movie 'Babe'?"

"They still watch 'Aladdin,'" Guss offered. "I think they still watch 'Babe.'"

Pender brought them back on track. "Once we get there, how do we get into this place? Any ideas?"

They spent the rest of the flight determining entrance, exit, and investigation. Scully surprised Pender by taking out her celphone and dialing a number he knew quite well. "You mean, you know them?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "I take it you do as well?"

"Who?" Guss demanded irritably. The number and people in question he was not familiar with.

Whoever she had called answered then. "Langly, stop the tape."

A pause. "Thanks. I need you to remember something you did for Mulder--" and she outlined their intent.

"Who is she talking to?"

Pender frowned, half his attention on Scully. "Hard to explain, you have to see. We'll take you to them yet. Remember when we needed to find Mulder when he disappeared, right before Scully and the rest came down? It's them."

Guss found this remarkably unilluminating but wasn't able to elicit anything more from his partner. Whoever it was did help advance their plans, and Scully and Pender continued plotting with great enthusiasm, right until the plane landed.

At the air port Scully turned to Pender. "I can do this as easily by myself. Go with your partner."

"No," Pender flatly refused. "We planned for both of us. You couldn't manage half as well with no one to guard your back."

"How about another back-watcher?" Guss suggested.

"You're finding Gibbons, Dubz, and the director. And I'm going with Scully to break into a secret classified facility. Any questions?"

"No," Guss sighed. Pender was his partner; he was also unofficial deputy director and nearly as unaccustomed as Mulder to being disobeyed. Arguing with him at this juncture would be a lost cause. Besides, Pender could take care of himself at least as well as Guss could. Hopefully more, he added, thinking back to the last time he himself had crashed one of these places.

"No questions," Scully agreed, earning herself yet another surprised expression from the nearly-unflappable Pender. Guss would've applauded, except he had to go off, find a taxi cab, and search out his fellow agents.

Pender and Scully secured a Ford Taurus for themselves. Scully drove, logically, since she knew the way.

They arrived a couple of hours before sunset. Mulder would wait for dark. But neither of them were Mulder.

"We have another half-hour," Pender said, looking at his watch. "Four-fifty-one, they said?"

Scully nodded. "And they keep time by the Naval Observatory Atomic Clock."

"I set my watch by it every morning, so we should be okay."

"Why'd you leave your partner behind?"

"Guss?" Pender shrugged. "As I said, too dangerous for more than two."

"It'd be safest with one."

"Maybe, maybe not." Pender tapped arrythmically on the dashboard. "I try not to let Mulder go anywhere alone. The X-files works best as a team, a group. Partners and all. We need to protect ourselves, there's too many demons out there to fight singly."

"'United we stand, divided we fall?'"

"Something like that, yeah." Pender grinned lopsidedly. "'And remember your gun when your back's to the wall.' The X-files' motto."

"Does that include when you're against the wall of the main Bureau?"

Pender's grin widened. "We're not often against that wall, thank god. I wouldn't want to have to pull my gun against, say, Director Skinner."

"Mulder on occasion found it amazingly effective."

"Oh really?" Pender blinked. "Now that's a story I hadn't heard, from him or rumor or anything else."

"Now I find _that_ surprising. It's actually several stories."

"You'll have to tell me. Later." Pender peaked at his watch. "Twenty minutes. If they come through. Which they always have," he hastened to add.

"How'd you meet them?" Scully asked.

"Ahh." Pender leaned back against the seat. "That's not too difficult to tell--haven't mentioned it to Guss just to irritate him, to be completely honest. And because you really have to meet them--it spoils the experience just to describe. But since you're acquainted...

"About a month after Gibbons joined the division, she came to me about a problem. Gibbons is a hacker among other things, she's somewhat paranoid, and she had been keeping a pretty close eye on her computer.

"She wanted to know why someone had broken onto the FBI net and downloaded her classified personal files. And only that. She had set some kind of flag to warn her if that happened but I think she was surprised that it had been tripped.

"It had been quite a class act, no Bureau security measures even noted the intrusion. We wanted to find out who it could be, Gibbons even suggested recruiting them--after she had had a chance to pay them back for electronic espionage on her own person."

Pender smiled, thinking about how utterly outraged his then- partner had been. "We set a trap, all her idea. Cunning set-up, I won't go into the details, but it involved spreading several rumors and writing up a dozen fake directories--all on our own time and all behind Mulder's back. We didn't want to concern him with this if it turned out to be nothing more than some cyberpunk prank.

"It took two weeks but at last we got a nibble, and Gibbons spent a couple of days tracking it before we closed in. Then when we got the location we stung--full Bureau arrest, breaking down the door, guns and ID ready, the works."

"You got a warrant?" Scully asked.

"Well..." Pender didn't hedge for long. "Truthfully we were completely out of Bureau jurisdiction. But we didn't think these punks would think of asking that, and they were breaking the law- -we couldn't arrest them then, but they wouldn't know that, and they certainly wouldn't report anything. I know the type."

"But these 'punks' weren't exactly the type you expected."

Pender rolled his eyes. "I'll never forget my first look at that insanely cramped little office. Or the looks on their faces.

"Or for that matter on ours. We charged in, said our piece, and immediately, in sequence, Byers asked to see our IDs, the warrant, and the evidence against them. Langly wanted to know exactly how we had tracked them, and Frohike demanded his phone call, 'to be made to Agent Mulder of the FBI.'"

"How'd you handle it?"

"Only way we could think of at the time--told them just who we were and why we were there. Specifically mentioning Mulder and the X-files."

"And they believed you?" she asked skeptically.

"Well, after this, Gibbons started to lay into them about breaking a computer entry and described all the measures she had taken, to catch them and that warned her of the initial 'assault.' And they were impressed. Langly started to ask questions and before you know it, we're discussing our latest case with them--they had the facts from Mulder, we gave them all the little details that made it fun."

"So mutual paranoia inspired trust."

"Yup," Pender verified. "That, and mutual acquaintance in the form of Mulder. That's why they had 'investigated' Gibbons to begin with; they had done the same thing with me, but I wasn't alert enough to catch it. It wasn't at Mulder's request, he didn't know. But they wanted to be sure his new partners measured up to the old," and he nodded to Scully. "In loyalties at least, if not in qualities."

"What I've seen is the highest quality," she commented softly.

Pender looked away, down at his watch. "Show time."

They drove up to the parking lot. The guard there waved them up to his booth.

"May I help you," he asked in a bored tone.

"I'm Alvin Mailer, this is my wife Connie," Pender said easily, Scully reclining demurely in the passenger seat. "We have a 5:15 appointment with Dr. Napier."

The guard quickly checked the list on his computer. "Go right in," he told them, eyes not even leaving the screen. "Don't take a reserved space."

Once inside the facility they gave the secretary at the main desk the same story. She directed them to the elevator.

Which is where they went, but they didn't take it to the second floor and then enter the third door to the right as they had been instructed. Instead they proceeded down to the basement.

Before exiting Scully typed a quick sequence on the keypad. Then they were out and on the maintenance level, ducking behind a boiler.

Pender examined his watch. "5 o'clock," he whispered. "The guards and secretaries are changing, and Alvin and Connie Mailer no longer have any appointments or connections with Lombard. Or with anybody else in the known world, for that matter."

"Back into the ether from whence they came," Scully murmured back. "The Taurus is still rented out?"

"To a very real couple," the other agent assured her. "Of course they live in Alaska but unless somebody checks for plane tickets nobody's going to know that they're still at home."

"And if the code worked, nobody knows that we're in the basement," Scully said.

"Lot of good we can do down here. Where to?"

"I'm not sure." Scully examined the local area. "I'm guessing that what we're looking for is on the main level."

"So it'd probably be best to wait. Easier to get inside during the daytime..."

"But now we're in, we wait until it's all closed. Say six thirty." She sat down and Pender dropped onto a crate beside her.

After a minute he noticed she was watching him. "What?"

Scully shook her head. "Nothing. It's just--I was thinking, if you were Mulder, I'd be having to find some way to keep you still. You'd want to be--"

"--in action, I know." Pender smiled. "I have worked with him. Running off to the rescue."

"Not a care in his head."

"Except for finding whatever's he's looking for." Pender hesitated.

"Which was me."

"Most of the time. Yeah."

A few more minutes of silence, and then Scully stood. "It must be contagious. I can't just sit here, either. Why don't we go up and just take a look around?"

Pender nodded immediately and followed, happy with the excuse. Talking with her left him uncomfortable, somehow. They returned to ground level and began some discreet snooping.

It wasn't hard. After passing rows of offices they came to halls of more distantly-spaced doors, most of them locked, and none with any signs marking what was inside. Finally the doors started to have key-pad and carded locks.

"Laboratories," Scully said, and Pender agreed.

"So here's where--" She froze, and he did as well, hearing footsteps when he listened.

"Somebody's coming, get in there." Scully pointed at a maintenance closet they had passed some meters back.

"No, you do," Pender answered. She looked like she was going to protest. "Hurry up!"

And without a word she dashed to the closet and ducked inside. Pender leaned toward one of the keypads and squinted at it as if he were trying to read the serial number. He jerked upright when the door across the hall opened.

"May I help you?" said the man there, a middle-aged red-head in a lab coat.

At that moment a guard materialized from around the corner, heading toward the two.

Pender put on his most innocent expression, blinking at both men. "I'm sorry, am I causing a problem?"

"You aren't supposed to be here," the guard informed him.

"But I have an appointment," Pender protested. "I'm looking for Dr. Napier's office, the receptionist told me it was left from the elevator--"

"On the second floor," the doctor said. "Show him there," and he disappeared back through the door.

Pender was escorted to the elevator, but fortunately not into the office. He waited on the second floor, humming slightly and smiling at people coming and going, who all gave him rather odd looks. Since from their clothes he deduced that none were members of the facility, he wasn't concerned.

In ten minutes Scully arrived. "No one saw me leave."

"Good. Even if they suspect me they don't know there's two of us."

"They could have just as easily suspected me. What do you call what you pulled back there, Pender? Chivalry?"

"Chivalry, hell," Pender said. "I'm looking out for both our interests. They needed to find somebody or they'd have searched further. You were some sort of patient here, yes? So it's minutely possible that you might've been recognized by that doctor."

"I wasn't an official patient," Scully muttered, but since she didn't argue any further Pender guessed his point had been made.

They returned to the basement and silently waited for the facility to close down. Pender paced, thinking out the ideal way to gain access to the appropriate laboratories. He had some general codes from the Lone Gunmen that would help, but he didn't know how far they would get them. He also mentally mapped out escape routes if and when the codes did fail.

Scully sat against the wall silently. Her face betrayed nothing; Pender couldn't even guess at her thoughts. Though he wouldn't be surprised if they were very much like his--she was, all in all, the practical, logical sort. How had she managed to survive--to thrive--partnered with Mulder was something he couldn't begin to imagine.

After a couple of aeons it was half past seven. Pender hoped that Guss, Gibbons, and Dubz had managed to keep Mulder in place. It would not be good if he laid siege to the facility right when Pender and Scully had begun exploring. Putting the guards on double alert was not conducive to breaking an entering.

They took the stairs, rather than the elevator, to avoid being captured. And soon learned that even if they weren't on special alert, these guards were not ones to let a couple of federal spies slip by.

"It's a fortress at night!" Pender hissed, as they counted the fourth set of even, heavy footsteps stride by the door in the last ten minutes.

"It proves this is the right place," Scully whispered back. "If you were having doubts. No regular research facility is guarded like this--unless fertility science has become much higher regarded by the government in the last five years?"

Pender shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of. These guys are _definitely_ hiding something."

They waited for another five minutes. "Maybe that was the changing of the guard," Pender said. "Nobody's outside anymore." Nevertheless they waited a few more before cautiously slipping out into the hall.

The first place they checked was the main office. It was empty, an easy matter to pick the lock, sneak inside and activate the computer. One of the Lone Gunmen's passwords worked nicely and they were soon on the main database.

Scully skimmed it as fast as she could. "Nothing suspicious here," she said. "Looks like standard medical records, appointments, bureaucratic data."

"Check for Chris Anderson, Mabel Cahul, Robert Engle--" Pender listed the names of the current missing ten and then the other two sets of possible abductees.

She did so. "Eight out of thirty," she said. "All registered patients. I don't see anything here." With a quick motion she switched off the terminal. "This probably doesn't connect with the real database, the records we're looking for."

"The lab computers. Behind those carded doors." Pender nodded. "We better move."

Just getting to the doors in question proved to be a feat of daring. It wasn't the number of guards; it was their astonishing ability to be in the worst possible place at the worst possible time, at least from the two agent's point of view. They spent fifteen minutes at one point camped out in a convenient maintenance closet, wary of even breathing for fear of being overheard. Pender fingered his gun the entire time, wondering if he could threaten with it, wondering if he'd have to use it, wondering if he'd even get the chance to.

He hated waiting. He could wait; he had incredible patience if it was necessary. He just hated to.

Several sets of steps went by in quick succession. Pender cocked his head. "Where're they going?" he asked Scully under his breath.

"No idea," she said in equivalent tones. "Hear anyone else out there?"

Pender listened. "No. You?"

In answer she cautiously opened the door. The hall was clear.

They balanced speed with silence hurrying to the hall's end. The two blank lab doors were both closed, their key-pad locks glowing red. Both inactive.

"Eenie meenie miney moe," Pender whispered. "I've got a code but it'll only work once without alerting anyone. Which lab would be the best bet?"

Scully pointed left. "This one."

He eyed her skeptically. "How do you know?"

"Any other ideas?--besides, they both should have terminals."

Pender raised his eyebrows, beginning to understand how that long-past partnership might have functioned, and punched in the numbers. The lock clicked satisfyingly and turned green, and the two agents hastened through the door. Pender closed it behind them, but frowned. "It's going to stay green," he said. "It will as long as somebody's in here."

The lights were the same deal--they came on without a switch as soon as they took two steps into the room.

And then they stared around them.

The lab was huge, as big as a standard gymnasium though only one story high. And it was far from empty.

Rows and rows of tanks--like giant fish-tanks, Pender thought-- filled the space. They were filled with some unidentifiable liquid and covered on all sides with what looked like computer monitors, electronic sensors, all variety of measuring devices.

They all seemed deactivated as well, dark and silent. Pender was almost positive that if the room hadn't been sealed the tanks would have been gathering dust; they had an unused look to them, machines retired.

"What the hell do you suppose these are?" he whispered.

"Hybrid growing environments. Artificial wombs," Scully replied, voice steady but with a pale face.

"You've seen these before?"

She shook her head. "Not me. Not exactly like these, no. But Mulder has, he's told me enough about them that I can guess at the identity."

"When you said hybrid, I assume you aren't meaning they raise baby mules in these things."

"No," Scully agreed. "Human hybrids. Genetic crosses of homo sapiens with a species of extra-terrestrial." She touched the closest tank and then drew her hand back. "We never proved they existed; I never was sure that was what they were. But Mulder is--was, I don't know what he believes now. I don't know what I believe."

"Here's what we need," Pender said, calling her over and away from whatever reflections she might be having. At the center of the growing tanks was a quite ordinary lab table, with a basic computer terminal on either end. It was already active and requested Pender's user name when he touched a key, bringing the screen to life.

"At least somebody's gotten us to the system," he muttered.

"Or a system," Scully cautioned. "It may be the same database as before. Do you have a password?"

Pender tried the one that had worked in the office terminal. The screen flickered. "We have two more tries before all the bells and whistles go off," he reported, watching the messages on the terminal. "Off-hand I'd say this isn't the public database. The security's intense on this one."

"You said you had another one, didn't you?"

Pender frowned. "They weren't sure it would work, but..." He entered a standard username and a string of numbers and letters.

For a moment the screen flashed the words "processing..." and then it returned to a plain cursor.

"We're in!" Pender exclaimed.

"Very good," Scully congratulated him tersely. She typed the same queries as before. "This looks the same," she commented. "Same medical files, same list of names, just the eight that are patients here."

"Let me try." Pender leaned over her and typed in a search for a single name. 'Scully, Dana Katherine.'

'Restricted data' flashed the screen; then 'Enter username.'

"Dammit," both agents swore simultaneously.

"That's what we want," Pender announced, peering closer. "This is a different database; it has second one shelled inside of it. And I'm out of codes, let alone finding a username. Somehow I doubt this system will accept 'guest' as a viable one." He wished Gibbons were here; she could break into anything--

"Let me try again," Scully said. "And cross your fingers."

She typed 'crawford.'

The computer blinked. 'Login accepted. Enter password.'

Pender knew that asking her to explain would be as futile as asking, say, Mulder, the same question. Instead he said, "Nice. Any ideas on a password?"

"I hope so." Scully bit her lower lip and typed, carefully hitting one letter at a time and watching a little asterix appear in its place on the screen, 'm' 'o' 't' 'h' 'e' and finally 'r.'

'Password accepted,' the computer flashed in response. 'Database opened.'

Pender's sigh of relief was obscured by Scully's own small gasp as she released the breath she'd been holding. "Here we are," she murmured, searching for the names again.

All thirty came up. The final ten were highlighted, and when she opened their files she found an extensive medical report, a scanned picture, and just about every form of identification they had--from telephone number to social security to credit card to number of pets.

Pender read over her shoulder, skimming the medical report (the jargon was thick enough to render it incomprehensible to a non- MD) and searching for his own keywords.

"There," he said, pointing near the bottom. Her eyes darted to where his finger rested and Pender saw them widen. "...implant removal scheduled for reasons of security..." she read. Glancing down further she continued, "preparance routine completed, general activation of sublevel h-guidance in subjects a.01 to c.3 begun at reception of [contact] request..." She checked the time. "My God, according to this they started almost an hour ago."

"Started what?" Pender demanded.

"I wonder--would they--" Oblivious to him she typed another query. A new screen was brought up.

Pender recognized it as belonging to the other, main database. She read the columns of names and dates. "My god," she said again, "they did. I don't believe it, someone would surely catch this." Scully shook her head. "No wonder it was so suspicious, they had to work so fast--"

Pender read after her, noticing at least some relevant details. No fewer than eleven of the names of the past two sets of abductees were listed. And the date by each of their names was that of today. "Scully," he demanded, "what is this? You understand what's going on? I thought you said only eight of them were patients here--"

"I don't know exactly what's happening," she told him. "Just a guess--" A few more rapid entries and she was back in the restricted database, going through files faster than Pender could read. "What time, what time, if the date is tonight--" She turned to him suddenly as if just realizing something. "I bet they're still here, maybe in the other lab."

"Who, the abductees?"

"Yes, of course." She flicked off the terminal and headed for the door.

Pender intercepted her. "If they're in there then twenty dollars says so are guards, scientists, and who knows who else. We can't just barge in flashing our IDs and demanding to know what's going on." This was starting to feel more like working with Mulder.

Except that Scully listened to logic; she halted. "You're right. So what we can do?"

"Ahhh..." Pender thought this over. "Find a back entrance. Try to sneak in."

"Good plan." Scully changed direction, heading for the opposite side. "Now, if these labs mirror each other, and in this type of building they usually do..."

There were no windows but two doors. One was big enough to drive a truck into; it was probably how they transported the tanks into here to begin with.

The other was a narrow service door on the opposite end. From the inside it pushed open, but when Pender checked it from the outside it had no handle and blended into the wall. A fire exit, most likely. Belatedly he realized he might have set off alarms opening it.

"We can go out this way, but I don't know how easy it would be to get back in."

"We'll manage," Scully insisted. "We have to see what's going on in the other lab."

Pender peered around but couldn't see any guards in the area. The facility was surrounded by walls and barbed wire; he imagined they were concerned about people breaking an entering, not those who had already managed the entering part. "If we stay low and hug the building, we shouldn't be seen," he reported.

It was a long, slow trip around the perimeter. There probably weren't more than two or three guards on the outside ground-- keeping up appearances that this was only a standard research facility--but they seemed to encounter them every hundred meters.

Whenever a flashlight appeared they ducked low until it was behind them. Any second now Pender could see floodlights exploding around them, a siren--he felt like a prisoner making his escape. Fellow cellmate and all.

In actuality it probably didn't take them more than twenty minutes to work their way around to the other side of the building. Once at the corner, they froze.

Sneaking into the lab would not be easy. Beyond the six guards surrounding both outer doors, two trucks idled, their headlights cutting swathes of glittering mist through the darkness.

The only thing on their side was that all the guards' attentions were focused inward, onto the trucks and the people moving between them. Pender and Scully mutually decided that a closer look was required and slithered forward on their stomachs.

Stretchers were being carried from the lab to the trucks. There were bodies on the stretchers. Pender at first thought they were dead--were they witnessing the cover-up of some hideous experiment?

Then one of the bodies moved, groaned loudly enough that the agents heard. A man in a white coat, a doctor Pender assumed, hurried over. Pender thought he saw him hold something glittering in his hands; he knew that the doctor did something for the groaning ceased and the struggles stopped. Drugged, Pender thought, hoped.

Scully beside him was whispering. "Eighteen, nineteen..."

"There's two already in the trucks," Pender murmured to her.

"Twenty-one, that's the ten abductees plus the eleven with appointments today. Where's the other nine?"

"What are they doing?" he whispered harshly in her ear. "Where are they taking these people?"

"I don't know," Scully whispered back, just as angry.

"Then we have to find out." Pender crawled closer, leaving Scully no choice but to pursue him. If she wouldn't tell him her theory (and she had one, no doubt about that), then he would have to do his own research.

One of the trucks was almost full; ten people were loaded into it. It was this truck that Pender approached.

Looking inside, he debated. Quarters were pretty close; the people on their low stretchers had been lined up in two rows, then the stretchers attached to some sort of framework. This obviously was not new to the facility, since the framework looked as if it had been built into the truck. Apparently this method of transporting humans was easier than flying them first class.

There probably was room for him amidst that framework. He could squeeze in, hide, and go on the ride with them. He still had his celphone, once they got there he could call Mulder or Guss or someone and have them trace the call.

If it had just been the ten he would have assumed that they were "returning" them, dropping them off in some field outside Allentown. But the other eleven...

The two guards watching that truck were looking in other directions. The area around it was dark. He was about to turn around and explain to Scully--

\--when she rushed past him and vaulted into the truck, disappearing into the back.

Pender swore out of sheer shock and followed. He heard an exclamation off to the side but it was too late to stop.

Just as he leapt into the loaded truck he heard a quick hissing sound and felt something prick his back, only a tiny poke through his jacket, but before he could do more than mutter, "Shit," he felt himself collapse between two of the stretchers.

* * *

Guss met Dubzinski and Mulder outside the police station. He paid the taxi driver and climbed into the back seat.

"Salutations and welcome to beautiful Allentown, Pennsylvania," Dubzinski greeted him.

The director eyed him. "What are you doing here, Guss?"

"Pender told me to come," Guss said honestly. "He was...worried about you, sir." Total truth, just leave out certain relevant details. "Anyhow, I'm here to help." He noticed a presence absent from the car. "Where's Gibbons?"

"She's out--following her own lead," Mulder answered, with a quick glance at Dubzinski.

Dubz nodded confirmation, but Guss saw him frown slightly. Not complete honesty there, either, and the director knew it.

So where was Gibbons?

"So you're planning on staking out fields and what-not, trying to see who's returning them?" he asked, pushing his other, more serious questions, aside. At least while the director was present.

"Yup," Dubz said. "Equipped with cameras, binoculars, the works. If it's little grey men, we'll have some more pictures for the scrapbooks. If it's a more earthly cause..." Evidence that would be valid in court. Another arm of the octopus severed.

"Have you found out how they were taken?"

"Well, if it was aliens, they've got some new techniques. No ash, no charring, no reports of lights," Dubzinski explained. "On the other side--there's no breaking an entering, no signs of damage.

"Gibbons and I decided that this may be just what it looks like-- people literally walked out of their beds and into the arms of...whoever. Whatever. Which seems to indicate them." With one hand he pointed upwards.

"Why?" Guss asked.

"Telepathy is what it sounds like. Mind control. 'Calling' these people to them. You know. Who-oo-hoo" and Dubz imitated a classic flying saucer hum, hypnotic undertones and all. He darted a quick glance at his director, but Mulder only rolled his eyes. On his lips was the faint smile he had perpetually worn for the last few weeks.

"Certain human factions have experimented with mind control," Guss mentioned. "I've read of experiments...but I don't know if we could call people, something that direct. I'm thinking of hypnotic suggestion, subliminal techniques."

"Subliminals have been used in some very powerful ways. By people," Mulder said suddenly. "Scully and I have seen them cause people to murder."

"What?" demanded Guss, not having heard of this usage before.

"I doubt you'd find that reported in your standard science journal," the director responded. "They involved--let's just say, questionable research techniques. And it was a while ago anyway."

"So you think these are human abductions," Dubzinski pressed.

"I haven't heard any proof from you that they're alien. Hypnotics or not." The director performed a credible version of his agent's flying saucer routine.

"I wonder if Scully could tell. Having personal experience," Guss suggested, seeing Dubz at something of a loss for words.

Mulder shook his head, a firm negative. "I don't think it's best to involve her in this. Not right away."

"She's an agent, we're all involved," Dubzinski said, recovering from his surprise.

"I wouldn't assign _you_ to a case that you weren't ready to deal with." Mulder's stance was set. "This is not so very long after the 'personal experience' you referred to. I'm not going to expose her to something traumatic so quickly. Trust me on psychology at least."

"You're the boss," Dubz replied. "It was only a suggestion." But in the rearview mirror he exchanged a pointed look with Guss.

"Here we are," were his next words. "Eliza Sander's place." Eliza Sander being one of the first set of abductees.

"Why did you pick her?" Guss asked as they got out.

Dubz shrugged. "First one on the list we called that was available. Seems today's big for doctor's appointments and the like." He rang the door bell.

A young blond man answered. "Yes?"

"I take it you're not Eliza Sander," Dubz said.

"I'm Lizzie's fiance. Mike Aarons. What are you looking for her for?"

"Nice name--I'm Agent Michael Dubzinski, FBI," and he flashed his badge. "My partner and I spoke to Ms. Sander yesterday. These are two of my colleagues--mind if we all come in and chat?"

Mike regarded them thoughtfully before saying, "No. Sure, come in. I think Lizzie mentioned you."

Once inside Mulder took over, to neither Guss nor Dubzinski's surprise. He was as fine an interviewer as ever, calm, assured, and sympathetic; Mike responded readily enough to his questions. No, Eliza hadn't any idea what happened to her. No, she didn't appear to be experiencing any side effects from those missing days.

He paused at the next query. "Yeah," he said finally. "She's had trouble sleeping. But that's been true since I've been with her.

"In what ways? I don't know. She, like sometimes she can't get to sleep. And then she has really bad nightmares--she's kicked me a couple of times. By accident, when she's sleeping, I mean, having a real bad dream.

"Oh, and she sleep-walks too. Man, that's spooky. She, like, gets up and can even put on her bathrobe and once she made it all the way outside before I woke up and found her and woke her up, I asked, like 'Where were you going?' And she said she'd been dreaming that she was on a leash, like a dog or something, being lead around.

"That happens on and off. Sometimes she's fine for a month and then she's up all night for another month...but it's nothing big. Like, there's nothing wrong with her. She went to see a counselor, when I found her outside I took her to a shrink I know about, but she asked Lizzie questions and talked and stuff and said there wasn't anything wrong. Like, she's not crazy or disturbed, she wasn't beaten as a kid or anything, and it's not drugs. It's just the way she is, I guess."

"Mike," Mulder asked, "has Eliza ever mentioned disappearing before? Before last week, I mean, do you know if it's ever happened to her before?"

"When she was a kid," Mike said immediately. "When she was around fifteen, I think, she told me she was missing for almost a month. And they don't know what happened to her. I don't know if she told the shrink that. I've been thinking, maybe that's why she wanders, something really bad may have happened to her. Maybe she was kidnapped and they--well, she doesn't remember that either. No one ever found out where she'd been, I think her folks were just so happy to have her back. It's like me, now, I don't care much where she was last week, she told me she doesn't remember and I believe her. But the doctors said she--" He stopped abruptly.

"What they'd say?" Mulder sat straight up.

"Nothing," Mike said clearly. "Sometimes they can be wrong. But they said she's fine, and they're right, that nothing happened to her when she was gone. She wasn't raped or beaten or anything. I'm just glad she was returned," he added defensively.

Guss met Dubz's gaze, mouthed to him, 'he's not saying everything.'

Dubz nodded, tilted his head toward Mulder. 'He knows.'

But the director didn't push that issue. Instead he asked, "Mike, has Eliza ever mentioned where she might have been taken? Has she ever hinted that she might guess?"

"Nope." Mike firmly shook his head. "She doesn't know and she doesn't care. Maybe she's scared to know." He rubbed his hands on his jeans. "You know, I sort of have a theory, though. I don't want to scare her, but I've done reading..." He trailed off.

"What do you think?" Mulder pressed carefully. "We're investigating every possible angle, any lead would be useful."

"I think maybe...maybe aliens took her. I know, it sounds corny, but they're out there, we all know that now. Hell, five years ago I thought only nuts saw them but now...and they do take people. I don't know if you saw, all the papers had it a month ago maybe, all these folks were returned. They were missing for years and almost everyone believes them when they say they were in ships. Maybe that's where Lizzie's been."

Not seeing a hint of condescension or disbelief in Mulder's expression he warmed to his topic. "See, Lizzie's sleep-walking, maybe that's them, you know, _calling_ her some way. To their ship. The night she disappeared--I never woke up, just next morning she was gone. Maybe they take her and erase her memories...they aren't hurting her, though. That's important. Or they didn't hurt her this time, though when she was younger...I just hope." He stopped and started again without prompting. "I hope they don't take her again, and I hope they don't take her for a long time if they do. I keep thinking, those people, what if Lizzie were taken for five years? I don't know if I could wait--I mean, I'd try, I love her, but what if somebody else--"

Then he shook his head. "I don't think I'd ever find someone like Lizzie, though. Not in five years. She's, like, she's one in a million, like that cliche says. You know?"

"I know," Mulder said with a slight smile.

Mike grinned nervously. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, is there anything else I can tell you?"

"Just one thing--where is Eliza now?"

"She's at work, she works at in office in town. She should be back in an hour or so, unless she goes out with some friends."

"Thank you, Mr. Aarons," Mulder said, standing and shaking Mike's hand.

"Sure, no problem," he answered. "Can I just ask something?"

Mulder nodded and Mike continued, "Do you think that I could be right? About, you know, aliens?"

"I can't say at this time." He paused before adding, "It may be a possibility."

"Then can you--do you think she'll be taken again? Do you think there's a chance of that?"

Mulder shook his head. "I can't say that, either. I'm sorry. I hope not, though."

Dubzinski distracted the man. "When's your wedding?"

"In a month. On Halloween, actually. Lizzie and I thought it'd be fun, I'll be in black tux and all...I hope she doesn't--it's going to be great."

"Sounds it. Best wishes to you, you're quite a lucky guy." Dubz shook hands as well and Guss followed suit, offering congratulations as well. Then both agents pursued their director.

As they re-entered their car Guss asked fellow agent and director what they thought of the situation.

"I think we should recruit Mike for the X-files, pronto," Dubzinski offered. "I mean, he theorizes as well as Gibbons and I!"

"On about as much data," the director commented wryly. "He hadn't seen anything the night she was abducted, obviously, or he would've mentioned it. Lights in the sky or odd noises or something."

"Maybe he slept through it."

"Through a standard abduction?" Guss asked.

Dubzinski rolled his eyes. "Okay, maybe he's a _really_ heavy sleeper. But this isn't a standard abduction."

"Has anyone seen anything?" Mulder queried.

"No," Dubz admitted. "And we've checked with the local NICAP chapter. Zip. That doesn't mean--"

"Evidence is important--even in the X-files," Mulder reminded his agent.

"Speaking of evidence," Guss said, "what's Gibbons looking for?"

"She said she had something she wanted to check out," Dubz answered. "Something that maybe Pender could help her with?" He was trying to communicate something to Guss in the mirror.

Guss wasn't getting it. Pender--why hadn't she said anything to Pender when he called her? She knew where he was, she knew that she couldn't ask anything of him at the moment--

In a flash it made sense. Guss said cautiously, "Pender didn't mention she had contacted him."

"Maybe it was after you left--" Dubz began, and then froze. "He didn't say anything?"

"Not a word, I was supposed to see her, actually," Guss affirmed.

Dubz didn't say a word, not sitting next to Mulder as he was, but Guss clearly saw his eyes narrow and his lips mouth 'dammit.'

Crouched in the dark far end of the truck, Scully saw Pender collapse. At the same time she saw one of the two guards outside call something before also falling onto his face.

Everyone outside not strapped to a stretcher hurried to the scene, but Scully was distracted by a sudden motion in the blackness next to her. She turned and was barely able to make out the shape of someone hugging the wall as well, hiding with her.

"Who's there?" she hissed.

Outside one of the guards knelt by his fallen comrade. In a voice loud enough that Scully could hear he announced, "He shot himself in the leg, that's what happened. Look, his gun's by his hand and down one tranq-stun."

"Probably saw something in the shadows," commented one of the others.

"Like one of our patients," a cold voice replied. "Take him in and lock him in an office. We'll figure out what to do with him when this is over."

"Unless he did see something," the first guard said. He shone a flashlight into the truck. Scully only barely ducked in time.

"I don't see anything but what should be there," remarked the cold-voiced man--a doctor, Scully saw, when she cautiously lifted her head. "We don't have time to conduct a full search, close this truck up and let's finish loading the other."

The door was lowered, plunging the entire space into total darkness. Scully heard metallic rattles outside--lock and a chain, she presumed. Getting out wouldn't be so easy.

A beam of light cut through the black in front of her eyes. Scully turned and made out a dim shadow, holding the flashlight. The beam was shone into her face.

"Agent Scully," stated a woman's voice quietly.

Scully recognized it. "Gibbons."

"Fancy meeting you here." The shadow and the light moved past Scully into the aisle and to the other end of the truck.

"Where's Pender?" Scully asked, following.

"Here." The light was aimed between two stretchers, where the agent lay on his stomach.

Scully reached under the stretcher she was crouched by and felt his pulse.

"How is he?" Gibbons asked, worry clear in her voice.

"I don't know. Pulse is steady but he's unconscious."

Scully could almost feel Gibbons relax. "He's fine then. He was hit by a tranq-stun."

"Ah." Scully began to understand. "And you have one too."

"Right here." Gibbons waved it under the flashlight.

"You shot the guard almost the same time he shot Pender. Very good timing."

"I couldn't let you or him get found. They might have found me," Gibbons threw off the compliment.

"You wouldn't have been in that dilemma if you weren't here. I wasn't under the impression you were going to join us."

The flashlight bobbed as Gibbons shrugged. "I knew you would need the assistance. Pender isn't half as good at this spy-sneak stuff as--"

"As you are?"

"Or Mulder. Or Guss, actually. I didn't know about you, but Pender could've used my help...whether he wanted it or not. Sometimes two people can do better than one."

"We were going in as a pair as it was," Scully pointed out.

Gibbons only shrugged again.

The truck jerked then, the engine roaring to life and the wheels under them beginning to carry it onto the road. "They must've finished loading the other truck," Gibbons commented.

Scully glanced back at Pender, who hadn't moved. "I thought those tranq-stuns only lasted a few minutes."

"Some last a minute," Gibbons told her. "Some last an hour. Either way Pender takes two, three times longer than average to wake up--he's allergic."

"Not seriously."

"No. With these, I'd say he'll be up in under half an hour. He's going to be in a terrible mood, though."

"Hopefully that'll be before we get there," Scully said. "Where ever it is we're going." She reached over and took the pulses of the people on the stretchers to either side. Steady but very slow. Shaking their shoulders did no good and their eyes under the lids were rolled back. "They're pretty far under."

Gibbons nodded. "They all are. They" and she pointed her thumb at the truck's closed door, "don't want a stir on this little jaunt, apparently."

"Pender and I weren't able to find where these people are being taken. We guessed somewhere around Allentown, but--did you find anything?"

Gibbons made a negative grunt, speaking reluctantly. "Didn't get a chance to get in. Where ever we're heading, though, we'll have back-up. Dubz is monitoring my celphone." A ghost of a grin crossed her face. "Unlike you and Pender, I gave the others a way to track me when I entered this labyrinth."

Scully was pleased to hear it; it saved her the trouble of explaining herself to Mulder. "How did you get in here?" she inquired, curious more than anything else.

"Found this place's network, crashed the computer and wrote myself an ID as a visiting doctor. Then I walked in and stuck around until night fell and the fun started. When I heard some noise outside I came out and joined the gang loading people in, only the first stretcher I strapped in I just stayed with in the back of the truck."

Scully stared. "You're joking."

"If you're wearing a white coat these guards assume you're a doc and the real scientists were in such a hurry they didn't notice they were one extra."

Mulder had pulled off some fairly audacious stunts--just the little pieces he had told her about Russia so long ago had left Scully gaping--but this was beyond anything even he had done. "You just strode in and weren't even questioned."

"Old trick--if you look like you know what you're doing there and have the right to question someone else, everybody assumes that's where you belong." Gibbons seated herself on the end of a stretcher. "Besides, they are in a major rush. Where ever they're taking these people, it's an appointment that can't be missed."

Scully remembered suddenly a time long ago, breaking into a place with similar security, fulfilling another appointment of extreme importance. One that had ended in death, but a life saved at the same time.

She took a place on the stretcher opposite Gibbons. "But you have no idea what that appointment is."

"Never got a chance to find out. I was going to attempt to until the opportunity to get directly involved showed itself."

Scully smiled in the shadows. "It sounds like you learned your technique from your director."

Gibbons snorted. "Never broke into anything with him."

"But I thought--" Scully began.

"He wouldn't let us." The other agent switched off the flashlight, so they were seated in utter blackness. "Useless to waste the batteries."

"What do you mean, he wouldn't let you?" Scully asked.

She could hear Gibbons breath but she didn't speak for a bit. Just as Scully opened her mouth the other agent said, "We never were the director's partners. Even Pender never was, not entirely.

"Not that it means much. We work with him. He tells us things, sometimes, if we're fortunate. But most of the time--we're as much in the dark as we literally are now.

"We'd do anything for him. I don't know if you can understand that. We'd follow him anywhere, except that he has this tendency to run and hide. Then we waste time tracking him...some day we're going to be too late. I'm sure of it. Was sure of it. Maybe not now. But maybe--he's still doing it. He tried it except we beat him to the punch this time. I don't know about the next."

"I know exactly what you mean," Scully murmured.

"I don't think that you can," Gibbons returned. "You're his partner. He talks to you. He's open with you, he almost--he doesn't shut himself off. Not from you. But us? I've worked with Mulder for four years now.

"Pender--Pender's been by his side for four and a half years. Pender fought for that post, god knows why, and then fought with Mulder to keep it, and I don't think Mulder even realizes that if he told Pender to fly to the moon Pender'd start looking for a rocket. Maybe I'm going too far. But it's close. Pender would give his life--hell, we all would. And maybe Mulder would do the same for us. Probably.

"But he won't allow us close, he holds us back, we can't break through. He won't allow anyone to."

I did that. Scully didn't say it aloud. She could hear the words, though, right on Gibbon's tongue but held.

And it was an accusation that she couldn't deny, she had no way to, no right to, not when it held so much truth. But how to explain? Gibbons knew it wasn't her fault that she had been taken, that wasn't the reason for her anger.

But it wasn't her fault that Mulder cared, either. It wasn't through any purposeful action of hers that he was so torn by her leaving that he tore his own self away, so it was nearly as separated as she had been. Perhaps even more, as she thought about the people on the ship, her acquaintances, friends by place but friends none the less.

Scully sat in the darkness and thought of this. Thought of her year and their five years. Except Mulder hadn't been alone, he had had this team, these people, all eager to help him, all willing to die for him.

"Gibbons, Mulder knows," she said at last. "He knows what you'd all do for him.

"And the reason he runs is because he doesn't want that, he doesn't want to risk you." She thought back to that e-mail, the one she had deleted at the time in angry fear and then wished later she had saved. To laugh at, maybe, and to remind her. 'A line must be drawn, and I'm drawing it for you here.' "He's run out on me so many times..."

She could Gibbons' eyes on her, even through the blackness of the truck's inside. "Why do you hate me?"

She didn't mean to say it. She didn't really mean it. But somehow it was all that she could think of.

"I don't." The answer came back too soon to be a lie. And that relieved Scully.

Gibbons went on. "I don't know. Maybe we're jealous. After four years, four and a half with Pender, of being by his side...would Mulder even notice if Pender was gone?"

"You're mad if you think he wouldn't," Scully snapped. "Why do you think he does that escape act? If he really didn't care, would he mind you following? I'm not saying that he'd miss someone getting his coffee--and besides, none of you do that, I've seen that much. He'd miss you, personally. He'd more than miss you. He'd bear the guilt of your loss on him for as long--" As long as he lived.

As long as he lived without me. It hit Scully suddenly, something that hadn't bothered her before. How long would it have been. How long would he have lived, wallowing in guilt, before he decided that it was too much?

Never, despite everything, she never would have thought he would do something so outrageous, so pointless, as end it. But then, she had never seen Mulder--never seen him as he had been. She could deduce, put together pieces, imagine what he had been like. That Mulder. The one that these agents, that Gibbons knew.

And that Mulder, that director whom she had never met, how long before he would have--but he hadn't. And Scully understood why.

"Gibbons," she said slowly. How to tell her, how to explain. It couldn't be done, not properly. "You've done more for him--you matter very much to him. He doesn't show it. Even when I knew him, he wasn't demonstrative like that, and now...

"You know him better than me now. You were there for these five years. I wasn't. I'm sorry for that, I can't change that, if you understood what I'd give... But I'm returned, and I know full well that things have changed.

"And I want to be part of that change. I want to join it. That's a piece of what you're angry about, I can grasp at least that, that Mulder is trying to make me part of something automatically that I have no right to. I'd like to earn that right. I think I need to earn it."

"We're giving you a chance," Gibbons said quietly. "Mulder wants us to. Pender asked us to."

Which mattered more? Scully wondered. There wasn't any way to tell. Mulder was the director but Pender was...

What? A friend? Because they all were Mulder's friends, too, they understood that instinctively. Because--because Pender was in some ways their only real connection to Mulder. The one who decided what to do for him, the one who could predict sometimes where he was, where he was going. Pender, the only one who had actually been his partner, at least in name.

And Gibbons had been the second. And they had both strived for something, and then Scully came and took it, came back and reclaimed it, though if they could only see they had it still...

"Mulder never told us about you," Gibbons said suddenly. "Not a word. Never mentioned that he had a partner before Pender, of course we knew one existed, but we didn't know it meant anything. He never said your name, not in my presence at least in the last four years.

"Pender knew. I don't know how, but he found out. And me...I knew there was someone. I recognized that."

Scully heard her stand, heard a couple footfalls on the metal floor of the rocking truck. "I remember," she said through the dark. "Once, one time, Mulder didn't come to work. It was the first time for me. I don't know how often for Pender, but he panicked when he couldn't get him on the celphone.

"We drove to Mulder's apartment, and Lee--Pender made as if he was going to beat down the door. Completely crazy, that's what I was thinking, what have I gotten myself involved with...When Mulder answered the door, I thought he, Pender, was just going to fall over. Then he started to demand why he hadn't answered his phone--

"It was so obvious, to me at least, the director wasn't hearing a word Pender said. Just this blank look, this dead expression on his face. And a book in his hands, this slim little book, nothing on the cover, like a journal...grasped in his hands, so tight it was bending, held so close his knuckles were bleached white. This dark little journal.

"And I just knew what it meant, and I pulled Pender away. Didn't completely understand why he was so concerned until the next day, when Mulder wasn't home or at the office. Or the next, or the next. I got used to it, Pender did too, didn't charge out so fast and furious anymore. But still...I guessed, I knew--but I never imagined it was you. His partner. Not until Pender told us. And that wasn't so long ago--in the hospital where we brought you, we made him explain. Forced the truth out of him."

Scully could see it in her mind--he must have found it searching her house, those months after Samantha was gone, trying to find her. He must have come across it, buried though it had been in the back of one of her closets, she had truly meant to throw it away but never got around to it. So he'd gotten to read it in its entirety.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, unsure if she was addressing Gibbons or the absent Mulder or some other presence.

With her ears so sharply cocked the other agent heard. "Tell him that."

"I will," Scully said. "I have."

Mulder requested to be dropped off at his motel. "I have some calls to make, a little research."

"We're going to see if anybody else is home. Why don't you wait and talk to an actual abductee?" Dubzinski suggested.

"Who doesn't remember a thing. This is your investigation. Handle that without me, I'll check in tomorrow."

"About that, you'll want to see what measures we're taking to find where and how these people are going to be brought back," Dubz proclaimed.

"I trust you and Gibbons with the affair, and you have Guss's help," Mulder countered. "Once I check up these matters I'll contact you, should be later tonight."

Guss looked out the window, where the sky glowed pink in the aftermath of sunset. He hadn't known the director for all that long but night was definitely Mulder's sphere of action. The time when the spirits and spooks are up and wandering the earth.

Dubzinski was still arguing. "You're the expert on these type of things, though. We can't match your experience and your advice would really--"

"You were managing fairly well on your own," Mulder pointed out. "I'm sure it'll go as planned. Drop me off and take care of your business."

Dubz stopped the car. "So you can take care of Lombard?" he asked. Guss sighed imperceptibly, understanding Dubz's lack of patience with this but knowing Pender would not be pleased.

"What do you mean?" Mulder inquired casually, but he had gone very still.

"Lombard Research Facility's about half an hour's drive, sir," Dubz said. "You're timing's good, it would've been totally dark when you arrived."

"How did you find out?" Mulder dropped all pretenses with his agents. He glared. "Guss?"

"Yes, sir," Guss admitted.

"I should've gotten your oath on a bible. How did Pender figure out where I was heading?"

Guss wasn't about to spill everything, not yet. Mulder passed it by for now.

"Dubzinski, take us there," he ordered.

"I do have responsibilities--" Dubz began.

The director's tone was about as cold and sharp as an icicle. "You'll be back in time. Lombard's only half an hour's drive, you recall. Take me."

A couple years of conditioned response to that exact voice left Dubz in no position to argue. "Yes, sir." The agent stepped on the gas and the car leapt back onto the street.

"Did Pender go to Scully or did she guess?" Mulder wished to know, once they were on the way. Seeing Guss's surprised expression he continued, "I'm no fool, no matter what I may act like. She's the only one who would have known."

"She went to Pender and me. We both told her," Guss informed him.

Mulder shook his head. Under his breath he muttered, "Should've remembered I can't keep secrets from her..."

And you shouldn't try to keep them from us, Guss thought, knowing he was reading Dubzinski's mind as well as his own. Not to mention Pender's, wherever he was at the moment.

On the highway entrance ramp Dubz began to speak. "You know, it's really not necessary to go. And I do have unfinished--"

"Maybe you don't think this is a worthwhile investigation," the director replied. "The abductees might disagree. Or those that care about them--ask Mike Aarons if he'd--"

"I'm not saying that this avenue shouldn't be explored," Dubzinski said. "Just that you don't have to be the one to do it."

"As Scully no doubt told you, I've been in Lombard before. I know my way around."

They sped onward for several more minutes. Dubz and Guss exchanged questioning glances by way of the rearview mirror. At last Dubz said, aloud, "Why not tell him..?"

"Tell me what?" Mulder pounced on his two agents.

"Sir," Guss began, "it isn't required that you be the one."

"We just went through this."

"It isn't hypothetical--someone's going in your place. In fact..." Guss considered the best way to put it and decided there really wasn't one. "Someone's already gone."

Mulder twisted around in his seat to pin Guss with a glare. "Pray continue."

"Pender broke into Lombard sometime ago. He's there now."

"Pender," the director hissed, "should have minded his own business. Yet why am I not surprised?" He turned to Dubz. "It must have been because your partner was out of town, because I know Gibbons would never have let--" He broke off.

"That's what she's investigating," Mulder answered himself. "Lombard Research Facility with Pender."

"I think so..." Guss ventured, and Dubz confirmed it. "That's where she said she was going. Of course she said Pender _asked_ her to come..."

Guss answered the querying tone. "He didn't."

"Seems as if no one is either being honest or following requests," the director commented dryly. "I thought this team was supposed to be based in trust?"

"Trust no one," Dubzinski came back, but he was grinning. Mulder's tone was still annoyed but had lost that cold edge of anger. "But do you think we can trust them enough to carry on with our work and let them do theirs?"

"They don't even know what they're looking for," remarked the director reflectively. "No, take us there, Dubz. Drop me off. I promise," and he raised his hand in the manner of an oath- taking, "I will not attempt to follow Pender and Gibbons. But there may be more to do..."

Dubz nodded; they continued driving. With Dubz at the wheel the trip was reduced to only twenty minutes; Guss spent most of it wondering at the division's predilection with pushing the speed limit to whatever was reasonable for an Indy 500 driver.

Five minutes from Lombard the director spoke again. He had been in quiet contemplation for several minutes; now he verbalized his thoughts. "You let your partner go in alone--since you weren't aware Gibbons was also coming. I'm surprised at you, Guss." He didn't seem to expect an answer so Guss didn't offer one.

Mulder went on. "And Pender's too logic-bound to go in without an idea why. Did you talk to Scully about that?" When Guss was silent the director addressed him. "Did she tell you what she suspected might be happening? What I suspect?"

"No, sir," Guss responded, nervously. Something in his tone...

"But why..." His voice suddenly snapped into full force. "She's with Pender, and Gibbons, isn't she?"

When Guss didn't immediately answer he repeated it, louder, "Scully was with Pender, she's in Lombard now? Tell me!"

"Yes," Guss confirmed softly.

Dubz took his eyes off the road long enough to eye his director; Guss watched him closely. Mulder's hands were clenched into fists and his jaw was tight. "Get us there fast," he growled to Dubz. Then to Guss: "If I find Pender was responsible--"

"He couldn't have stopped her," Guss murmured. "You said it yourself, no one could have. It was all her decision."

"If she--" He cut his own sentence off, for a moment seemed incapable of starting another one. "If she knew how dangerous--"

"Sir," Guss said, and found Mulder's attention suddenly riveted onto him, "she is an agent of the X-files. She's part of the team, as Pender says, and it is her duty to take some risks. And if she's half as competent an agent as we've heard..." He mustered his convictions in the face of the director's wild glare, "I don't know what you really have to worry about."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Mulder returned. "Get us there, Dubzinski."

They screeched to a halt a block from the facility, the director understanding as well as his agents that it would be foolhardy to declare their intentions by going any closer. By the time the car had rolled to a stop Mulder was out of it and charging in the direction of Lombard.

Dubzinski and Guss hurried after him. "Sir!" Dubz called. "Where are you going?"

No reply. "What, are you just going to walk up there and ask to see them?" Dubz demanded.

The director turned briefly. "I have to know if they have her yet."

"How do you know they'll catch her?" Guss protested, but Mulder continued his march. The two agents raced to catch up. Dubz ran directly in front, right in his line of sight.

"Sir, this is nuts, we gotta get a plan--"

"We don't have time," Mulder snapped.

"How can you _know_?" Dubz began, but it was clear the director was not listening. "You're not the only one with a partner in there! They'll manage! Sir, you gotta stop!"

He didn't. "Sir!" Guss cried, "Dubz's right, this is crazy, Director Mulder!" He was marching toward the facility with all the momentum of a locomotive going down-hill. Without brakes.

Guss grabbed his arm and wrenched him to a halt. "Sir," he said distinctly, "If you go up there and ask you're telling them something that they might not know. If they haven't found them yet--"

"You'll put her in more trouble," Dubz supported him. "You'll endanger Scully and Pender and Gibbons, too."

Mulder frowned at both of them. "We have partners as well," Guss reminded him again.

"And we're not ecstatic about this, either," Dubz added, throwing a pointed glance at the facility. "But if we want to do something, we better make sure it's something helpful. And right now," he said assertively, "I think the most helpful thing will be getting back and doing our job. And letting them handle theirs. Like I've been saying."

The director gazed at the lights of the facility, his face an unreadable mask.

"Besides," Dubz added, "They're okay. Or at least Gibbons is, and she would have told me if she knew they were caught."

That grabbed both Mulder's and Guss's attentions. "How?" Guss demanded.

Dubzinski took out his celphone, a little amber light blinking on top. "Gibbons and I have kept our connection linked. It's costing the Bureau a bundle, but we can trace her anytime. If anything had happened to her she would have turned it off--or the people who found it would have closed it--and if anything had happened to the others she would have rung me." He pocketed their link with their partners. "Can we get back to Allentown now?"

* * *

In a dark truck hurtling toward some unknown goal, Scully and Gibbons sat in uneasy silence. They were surrounded by blackness and the quiet slow breathing of the abductees on their stretchers, in their drugged slumber unaware and uncaring of their location.

Scully spoke just to make sound; she had had enough silence around her the past year. "So Dubzinski knows where we are?"

"He should," Gibbons replied across the darkness. "I alerted him when we started moving--"

A groan interrupted them. Followed by a voice. "That better not be you, Gibbons."

The flashlight glowed into being, the beam focused in the direction of the sound. Pender had pushed himself up between the stretchers. He squinted at the light.

"You're awake," Gibbons greeted him gladly.

"For about two minutes now, lying on the floor, trying to figure out if I was captured, if I had gone blind, and if I was surrounded. Then I heard your voices and figured none of the above..." He rubbed his face, growling through his hands, "You were _not_ here before, Gibbons. Leastways you weren't supposed to be."

"Change of plans. My idea," the other agent informed him.

Pender made an attempt to stand and ended up leaning heavily on one of the available stretchers. "How do you feel?" Scully demanded, medical training moving to the forefront of her thoughts.

"I'd like to find the person who termed those damn tranq-stuns 'humane' and make him swallow a liter of the drug in 'em," Pender muttered. "Otherwise, I think I'll survive." He closed his eyes for a moment and seemed to marshal his strength before opening them. "This truck is moving."

"Yes, brilliant deduction," Gibbons confirmed, grinning.

"I was hoping that all the rocking wasn't in my mind," Pender grunted. "From here on I'll assume that only the spinning is my personal perception. Where are we going?"

"We'll know when we get there."

"And Dubzinski is tracking us."

"That's what Gibbons says," Scully agreed.

Pender looked from one to the other. "I think at the moment I'll choose to believe her. If we're lucky Mulder and the rest are on our tails."

"I thought Mulder wasn't to be informed of our locale," Scully reminded him.

He considered this only momentarily. "I don't give Guss one chance in fifty in holding out against the director for this long. Hopefully they're out there, then."

The truck suddenly bounced up, and if they hadn't all been seated they would have fallen. As it was Pender was knocked off his stretcher.

"I think we might be getting...wherever," Scully offered.

Pender shook himself and reclaimed his seat. "I hope so," he said. "This vehicle is obviously not designed for dirt roads."

"Or speed bumps," Gibbons added a moment later, after experiencing another bone-jarring rattle.

They all were thrown soon after by the truck jerking to a stop. In the silence following the cut-off of the motor Gibbons whispered, "We're he-ere..."

They retreated to the opposite end of the truck from the loading doors. Through the sides Scully could distantly make out doors slamming and voices calling to each other, and then on their truck there was a metallic clunking. Slowly the end lifted up, cool night air rushing in.

Outside lights, flashlights, broke up the darkness. People swarmed around; in a few moments Scully realized there were only six, all in white coats. The doctors. They had left even their guards behind, apparently. The other truck was parked nearby; Scully could see its back, opened like the one they were hidden in. The doctors showed no signs of even looking inside either truck to check on the status of their "patients;" for the moment Scully and the other two agents were safe.

And then she saw darker forms. The doctors were leading them by the hands, herding them. Four were lead to the back of their truck; Scully counted five by the other.

"The nine other abductees!" Pender hissed into her ear.

"They were just standing there, waiting for these ghouls!"

Gibbons whispered.

"Summoned by them," Scully answered them both. "Brought to this field."

"Why?" Pender demanded, but Scully didn't answer. Not yet. Not until she was sure.

One by one the four outside were lifted into the truck. As soon as they were inside the doctors pressed something against their necks; Scully couldn't see what exactly, but it was easy to guess by the way they wilted after the operation was performed. More drugs. So they didn't want these ones to run, either...

The last abductee was loaded in. Outside a voice said clearly, "Talk about cutting it close!"

"Whatever's happening, it goes down soon," Pender remarked.

"So we better move," Gibbons agreed.

"Wait!" Scully cautioned. "What are you going to do?"

"There's only six of them," was Gibbons' response.

And two were already out of their line of sight. Gibbons picked the one closest to their truck. In one quick motion she flashed her light in his face, pulled her gun with her other hand, aimed it, and shouted, "Freeze!"

Pender was already targeting another doctor and Scully swiftly choose a third. "We've got you all covered," she warned them.

The one spotlighted believed her. The rest didn't. They fled with an alacrity that disturbed Scully; she knew this type, and they were far from cowards, whatever else they may be.

Pender fired a warning shot overhead but it only spurred them on. Swearing, he scrambled to the other end of the truck, Gibbons and Scully on his heels.

The doctor in the flashlight's glare stood gaping at them, open- mouthed and frozen in his tracks, a rabbit trapped by headlights. "How did you--you must get out of here!" he gasped. "We all have to--"

"Save it," Gibbons cut him off. "Better yet, explain it."

"Look!" the man shrieked, and he gestured behind them. Old trick, but his terror was so palpable Scully could take it in her hands. She looked.

On the ground was nothing, but where he pointed--she froze, instinctively, keep still so the predator won't see you, an ancient reflex. But when the predator is in the sky, a great star in the night sky, a star that is growing as you watch it...

She wasn't the only one so affected, but Gibbons broke out of her trance sooner. "Damn!" the agent shouted, "Freeze!" But the doctor was sprinting toward a car idling at the edge of the empty field.

"Oh god!" Pender muttered, as the night suddenly became as bright as day. Not from the sun, though, and not, as Scully first feared, from that artificial star above them.

The trucks had suddenly flashed to life, not the headlights, but other lights, framing both the vehicles in brilliance. At first Scully could only see whiteness, but then her eyes made out colored bulbs as well, flashing, like some form of twisted Christmas display.

Gibbons saw it as well; Scully heard her croak, "Damn unseasonable!" not a joke, but a protest, defending against the overwhelming disorientation.

"It's patterned," Pender noted in a cracked tone. "A signal--"

Scully saw movement, a white blur, not light but reflecting light, and she aimed her gun, knowing how visible she was. "Don't move!"

The figure froze as instructed. "Stop it," Scully called across to it hoarsely. "Turn them off."

Nothing happened.

Pender's gun flashed under the lights as he took aim as well, squinting. He was pretty far off, what with the glare in his eyes, but though Scully could see she doubted the doctor could. "Do it," Pender commanded.

The world was plunged back into darkness as every light on the trucks died. Gibbons was alert, however, and the flashlight had already been focused on their remaining suspect. Scully aiming clearly at his head, approached him slowly.

He had something in his hands, a dark box--a remote control? And he shouted across to her, terror echoing in his voice, making it tremble, "Can't you see? Let me go! Look up!"

She didn't need to. Already the field was growing brighter, the ground becoming visible, the air grey, though it was far from sunrise. And the stars were fading, drowned by the largest one in the sky, growing still, she could feel it if she couldn't see it directly, in her bones, shaking with the hum, she knew it too well, they had arrived as planned, to take them...

"They've come!" he screamed. "Let me--"

She lowered the gun.

He ran, flat out, away from the field. The car was gone already, his companions abandoning him.

A gun shot sounded, echoing past her ear, but the bullet missed its target, sending up dust several feet behind the fleeing doctor. And then he was out of the circle of light around them, growing brighter still.

Flashing suddenly, as the trucks' brilliance returned, adding color to the prevailing whiteness of the atmosphere, shattering the final remnants of the night. Twinkling colors, making intelligible patterns around the trucks' perimeters.

As a month before, as every time, she fell, unable to tell if she was standing or not, sight impossible because of the light, more opaque than the blackness inside the truck had been; balance impossible because of the thrumming that filled her ears. And for an eternity she was trapped in it, gloried in it, existed out of time and space among pure energy.

Simultaneously with the return of the ground under her hands came the flashing pain in her eyes, enormous blinking spots that gradually shrank, diminished, receding with the pain and as the ringing of her ears faded.

When her sight was mostly cleared and her hearing mostly recovered she pushed herself up, until she was standing. The flashlight had fallen but from the ground it cast its beam directly onto her. That was the first thing she saw after.

The first thing she heard was a sharp click of a gun some meters away being cocked, and Pender's voice coming coldly to her ears, commanding her, "Do not move."

* * *

Dubzinski came to Mulder and Guss a couple of hours after they returned to Allentown, with an urgent report. Gibbons had given him a one sentence bulletin--"Pender and Scully have arrived, finally," and then when he traced the call, she was found to be moving.

"So they probably all are," he concluded. Meaning that Mulder, Guss, and Dubzinski left matters in local hands for the moment and pursued.

They zeroed in on the location fairly fast, and after analyzing their general placement and direction of movement pinpointed what road the other agents were on. It was fairly easy to find a parallel one, and they kept constant surveillance to trace any turns.

When one at last occurred it came as a surprise, and Dubzinski, still at the wheel, wrenched them around in a U-turn and careened several hundred feet down the break-down lane of the wrong side of the highway to catch the closest exit. The map didn't even show the road that they must be on, but Mulder hypothesized that their destination was a wide empty expanse of land. A farm had gone under but the owners were choosy and so far no developers had gotten their claws onto it. It was very isolated and probably an ideal space for...whatever was occurring.

It also was not one of the fields being monitored. "It's nowhere near Allentown," Dubz protested crossly. "How was I to know we were supposed to watch the whole damn state?"

The three of them had only just reached the long dirt road that lead to the lot when they all saw the light in the sky. Guss didn't need assistance to identify it. He remembered the white glow crystal-clearly in his memory, only a short month ago, in a Wisconsin quarry. He even thought he could hear the hum, his heart thumping in sympathetic rhythm with it...or perhaps only to the sound he remembered.

Dubzinski slowed the car, open-mouthed, staring at the phenomenon. "If ever I didn't believe..." he whispered.

Mulder said nothing. Guss turned his eyes to the director. He sat pressed against the seat, fists pushing into his thighs, and his face was white in the light, drawn in the shadows. His mouth moved faintly, and though no sound, no breath emerged, Guss read his lips saying, "Scully..."

The car braked. "I'm not driving into that," Dubz objected, tilting his head at the brilliance.

"Keep going," Mulder directed, voice gone, only mouthing the words.

"No, sir," Dubz answered hoarsely, unable to look away from the light.

Nor did the director's gaze change. But his voice solidified into his command tones, magnified by a fear and an urgency barely understandable. "Drive the damn car, and don't stop again."

Dubzinski obeyed, eyes still focused on the sky, inching the vehicle into motion. Guss heard him breathing heavily in the stillness, gasping a little when he inhaled. Dubz had never faced anything like this before, the agent realized, and that he could be scared by something was probably frightening him even more than the thing itself.

It seemed as if the light were there forever, never changing, bright but distant. Were they in that light, Guss wondered, Pender and Gibbons and Scully most of all, she who had been in it before, not at all long ago. He wondered if they were frightened, as spooked as Dubz was by it all.

He didn't remember being really afraid, but then he didn't remember the light lasting for so long. Hadn't it been only a flash of radiance and then gone? Fading in his eyes--

And then it really was fading, and then it was gone. The car's headlights brightened back to full luminance--when had they dimmed?--and Dubz accelerated without a word from Mulder, rocketing down the dirt road, not to the end, but to where it curved off into the empty field.

The light was gone, but there was still moonlight, and starlight, and headlights, and on the field itself a flashlight shone. Between all this Guss could make out the tableau, three silhouettes, like actors on an empty stage. Statues posed...

And one statue was his partner, and one was Gibbons, and the one in the center of the flashlight's beam was Scully. All the air in his lungs rushed out in a relieved sigh, and he heard Dubz and Mulder both echoing the action. All present and accounted for--

It wasn't until they were out of the car that the positions caught their notice; it wasn't until Guss was standing on the field that he saw why they hadn't been hailed, that he saw Pender's stance, with his gun pointed squarely at Scully's head.

Gibbons moved, turned toward them but said nothing and didn't take a single step. Pender and Scully might have been carved of stone.

Mulder broke the silence. "Pender!" his voice rapped out, commanding, demanding, not even framing the order.

Pender heard it all the same. "No, sir," he refused through gritted teeth.

The director only stared. Guss couldn't even see anger on his face, only confusion, bemusement. Lack of purpose--decision, Mulder's hand moved tentatively, in the area of his holster, where his own gun rested.

"Sir," Dubzinski murmured, only for Guss and their director's ears, no other words but a reminder. That each of them had a partner on that stage, that they were all involved, and sides were not yet chosen but might be.

And though Pender might not have heard, he perceived it all the same. "Sir," he said again, "if you knew what--" and then he was addressing Scully, clearly, "--I don't understand, how could you? How could you, when you were one of them, did you forget the last five years?"

Scully stared back at him steadily. Her eyes flickered once, onto Mulder and then back to Pender.

"Pender," the director began again, warning in his voice, desperation creeping into his face.

"They're empty. Aren't they, Gibbons?" Pender said. His voice was strange, hard and yet cracked, like a broken crystal, all sharp edges.

"Yes," Gibbons told him. "There's no one inside."

For the first time Guss noticed the dark shapes of two large trucks in the field, black masses, their metal sides glittering faintly when they caught the starlight. He peered inside them but could make out nothing but darkness.

"How could you?" Pender demanded of Scully again.

Mulder made another abortive motion for his gun. He didn't even need Dubzinski's rejoinder this time to stop.

Pender saw somehow out of the corner of his eye. Or sensed in some other way. "Mulder, she allowed this, we could have stopped them, saved them, if she hadn't--" and again he was speaking to her. "What will you argue? Mind control? Subliminals? A hold, a force that you cannot explain?"

"No," Scully spoke for the first time. "It was my choice. My own choice."

Guss barely recognized his own partner's voice, so twisted as it was with anger, bitterness, cold fury. "Then you willingly worked with them. How long?" When she didn't reply he repeated, "_How_long_!? From when you were taken? From before that, from the first time they had you? Or from the very beginning?

"Tell him," Pender commanded. "Tell him how long it's been a lie."

Scully turned her head, deliberately, to face Mulder, and in a clear, calm voice, stark contrast with the unendurable tension in Pender's, said, "It never was."

And Mulder asked his own question, just as plainly, "Why, then?"

"You'll understand." Her calm, her honesty was unfeigned. "I couldn't explain to him, but you--remember why I was taken, Mulder. I told you why."

"I remember," the director murmured. "Why you think, at least."

"I know it was," Scully said. "And that's why. That's why they," and she waved toward the shadowy trucks, "that's why they were requested. Why this appointment was made. Fixing matters. Putting things right that are wrong. It takes time, it's a difficult process, but..."

"Five years," Mulder reminded her quietly.

Pender spoke again. "Or ten. Or twenty. Or thirty-five, Mulder. Remember that. These people, they had families, they had people who loved them--and she--"

Scully cut him off. "That is why," she insisted. "For them, for those that love them. I never was told this, I made no deals, no contacts, but I saw the medical reports at Lombard, I know I'm correct. It's the logical explanation. It's the instinctual theory. Any way I look at it I know it's true." She was facing the director, speaking only to him. "Would you rather have had me for only one more year, or lost me for five in return for as many as we survive?"

"You know the answer," Mulder told her, and Guss almost thought he heard a smile in the tone.

"I know," and her voice was even softer.

"Pender, put the gun down," the director said, not even an order, only a request.

"You can't trust what she says, if you saw--" Pender argued hoarsely.

"She's my partner, Pender, and it's my choice to trust her, and I do," Mulder replied, without anger. "I'll explain later, but now I am your director, and I order you to put your gun away. As your director, and as a member of your team, who you trust to make some decisions. Put it away, or I may have to use my own on my past partner, something I would truly rather avoid."

For the first time Pender looked away from Scully, to glance at Mulder. Guss gestured slightly, caught his eye and shrugged, expressing his own lack of power in this choice.

But Guss knew that it was the director that convinced him, with his casual tone and his half-smile, no longer tense or pained but calm, almost happy, reflecting a peace far down at last restored.

Pender replaced his weapon in its holster and sighed, a huge long exhalation, shoulders dropping as if no longer bearing even gravity's pressure.

Gibbons and Dubzinski both nodded simultaneously, identical grins inching onto their faces. And Guss gave his partner a traditional thumbs-up signal and headed over to him.

"So you think I'm a good enough gladiator that I shouldn't be fed to the lions?" Pender asked when Guss reached him.

"What?" Guss queried, lost.

"Never mind." He looked over at Mulder approaching Scully, saying something inaudible to the others, something that made her almost smile. She responded in kind, judging from his expression. "I am going to want an explanation."

"So aren't we all," Dubzinski commented, coming over with Gibbons. "What just happened?" He was smiling slightly but Guss could still see remnants of fright and confusion and worry in the corner of his eyes. Gibbons too looked distantly haunted and though Pender might joke, there were dark patches under his eyes and lines crossing his face that didn't belong there.

"Where are the abductees? Did you find them?" Guss asked, to start the questioning at the beginning.

"We found them," Pender confirmed grimly. "I hope we can do so again. Eventually."

It was over a week before the entire X-files division was back in the Hoover Building. Even after explanations had been given and Lombard Research Facility was thoroughly searched--of course nothing was found, and not an arrest could be made--there were still other matters. Mulder and Scully travelled around the state, going even further in some cases, to personally relate the fate of the thirty abductees to their friends and families. There were tears, there was anger, but there was acceptance as well.

For one thing, in many cases they had known that their beloved was dying. There were so many different ways, cancer prime among them, but other diseases, degenerative conditions, afflictions mortal in the long run. And Scully personally told them everything that had happened to her, including the cancer and how it no longer was there, and many of the people found comfort in that.

Mike Aarons, who hadn't believed the doctors when they had said that his Lizzie was victim to some non-contagious disease that they could neither identify nor cure but that they could see acted very like AIDS, with a similar guarantee of fatality--Mike believed it when Scully told him, and believed her as well when she promised Lizzie would return healthy, and was willing to wait. As long as it took, so they could have their Halloween wedding.

Of course not all families and friends knew, and not all believed, and some demanded to know when they would see their loved ones again, a question even Scully could not answer. All she had for real evidence was her own self, and there were those who didn't even believe that.

After a week and more of this, Mulder and Scully both were exhausted when they returned to the X-files division. For some reason, climbing stairs up instead of descending into the basement to get to their office felt especially wrong to Scully, an alteration in her life that she couldn't adjust to.

She mentioned it to Mulder, but after four years of it he only gave her a blank look and made a snappy remark about elevators and exercise.

And the offices itself, with its six extra agents, felt even worse. As quickly as possible she retreated into Mulder's own office, which had at least a passing resemblance to the old one, like the only one desk that they both had to share. But also big windows with a fairly nice view of the city, which was nothing like their old one.

Mulder entered soon after her and dropped into his chair, tilting it back and turning it slightly with his toes. "At least we sit more comfortably," he offered to her.

Scully was on the edge of her seat, as if wary of toppling it if she leaned back. "I suppose," she said quietly.

"Scully, I--" and then Pender poked his head in.

"Sir, sorry, but there's a couple of things that have backed up in your absence, you wouldn't believe the number of crop circles in Arkansas this week (Gibbons asked me to tell you that), I think Skinner's been hunting you, and..." He grimaced. "And you need to get a secretary. I refuse the duty, flat-out."

"But you have talent!" Mulder argued, smiling wearily and pushing himself off his chair, willingly forging into the world outside their office. Knight on a crusade, as always.

Pender opened the door for him and closed it, shutting himself in. "Scully," he began.

She turned to face him, nodded. "Yes?"

"I wanted to say...that I'm sorry. Mulder talked to me, explained everything, the whole piece of the story that I hadn't gotten. Things made a little more sense after that. I was wondering, would you mind if I fed it to the rest of the team?"

"Sure, fine, whatever," Scully muttered, then, seeing Pender's doubtful look, shook her head. "No, honestly, I don't mind. Tell them. They should know. They have a right to."

"Thanks," Pender bowed his head quickly once, but still didn't leave. "Now, about the apology--"

"You're forgiven. You said 'I'm sorry.' I absolve you of all guilt. Go in peace, my son." She made a half-hearted cross in the air.

Pender frowned. "This is of important, you know. What I did. I do feel guilty about it, though I want you to understand my motives--I think you do. Trust isn't a thing which comes easily to any of us here, we've been through too much. But I want your trust."

She stood, looked him up and straight in the eye. "And you have it, Pender. I mean that. I do trust you. If you--"

"I do." Pender nodded, completely serious. "I trust you."

"Good."

"Hard for trust to exist with that sort of base," Pender said suddenly. "I've never aimed a gun at a fellow X-files agent."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "You mean, FBI agents?"

"No." Pender half-smiled. "I mean X-files agents. Regular Bureau agents are another matter."

"I'll have to hear about that sometime."

"Sure, when the rest of the division does. But I'm serious here. We depend on each other so much, I never thought I'd threaten one of us...and Mulder nearly threatened me. I never thought I'd be put in that position either, the losing end of that sort of resolution..."

"You didn't lose," Scully pointed out.

"None of us did," Pender said. "I don't know what would have happened if one of us had. If one of us had been killed, even just injured--by another of the X-files...what would happen to the trust then?"

"It might survive," Scully said slowly. "It's possible. And I am speaking of more than theory..."

Pender stared. "Personal experience?"

"It's a hard thing to get over, I'm not suggesting it, but I can give you my guarantee--someone you've shot can still trust you, if the circumstances are right."

"Trust you correctly?"

"Completely, a failsafe trust. A double trust, in which it's impossible to say whose faith in the other is stronger..."

"Your own is."

"You have proof?"

"No," Pender answered, "that's just what any of us think. In the X-files, that our faith is the stronger, that the other can be trusted more than ourselves can. Of course the other one always thinks the exact reverse...that _you're_ the more trustworthy one." He hesitated. "If you understood any of that--"

"I know what you're trying to say."

Pender bowed his head. Then cocked his ear toward the door. "Sounds like there's an argument going on out there."

"Sounds like Mulder."

"And Guss?" Pender blinked. "If this is about that murder--Guss has been insisting it's a human killer, despite all marks to the contrary...would he go against the director though..?"

"It sounds like an investigation worthy of two X-files agents. Shall we?"

"Certainly." Pender took the arm of his past partner's partner and they proceeded into the main office.

Scully, looking it over, with the newspaper clippings papering the wall, the cramped desks overflowing with clutter, and the six agents and one director standing in the middle of it all debating tenuous theories at slightly under the top of their lungs, thought it appeared surprisingly like the way things should be.

Joining the argument (on Guss's side, against Mulder; his was the more logical stance) felt startlingly familiar.

And for the first time in over five years, she knew she was where she belonged.


End file.
